Underneath it All
by Crystal Manning
Summary: Melanie Crowe wanted to do two things: join the lacrosse team and conquer sophomore year with her best friend by her side. Then she had to get nosy and put herself in the middle of an adventure she could only dream up. Werewolves she can handle. Lizards she can handle. Learning that she's marked for death? That may take a little longer to get used to. Erica/OFC Isaac/OC [S1/S2]
1. Birds of a Feather Flock Together

_**Title: **_Underneath It All_**  
>Rating: <strong>_T (hard T in some chapters)_**  
>Summary: <strong>_Melanie Crowe wanted to do two things: join the lacrosse team and conquer sophomore year with her best friend by her side. Then she had to go and get nosy and put herself in the middle of an adventure she could only dream up. Werewolves she can handle. Lizards she can handle. Learning that she's marked for death? That may take a little longer to get used to. She always had a fascination for the supernatural but she never imagined falling into the fast paced world and learning that she had been a part of it all along.

Follows show plot with deviations here and there starting from episode one. S1/S2._****_

_**Pairings: **_Erica/OFC, Isaac/OC (same OC, not a love triangle), Scallison, Jydia, Berica_**  
>Genres: <strong>_Supernatural, Romance, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Mystery, Angst, Suspense  
><em><strong>Warnings:<strong>_ OC heavy, eating disorder, body dysmorphia, mentioned suicide attempt, depression, semi-graphic violence

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>ACT ONE<strong>_

_**Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather Flock Together**_

"Er-ri-caaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Three pleats of a honking horn punctuated the name that was stretched out that cool January morning. It was a morning that held a bright blue, cloudless sky. It was a morning that looked as if it belonged on a postcard or in a photograph. It was a morning of new beginnings.

It was a morning where Melanie Crowe was going to kick Scott McCall's ass.

"Erica! Put your rear in gear!" Melanie yelled, honking the horn to her truck again. She was sitting in the driveway of the Reyes house, staring up at the window that overlooked the garage, waiting to see if Erica was _finally_ ready to go to school. Melanie's fingers twitched against the steering wheel as she waited. If Erica didn't hurry up she'd leave her behind and get to the ass kicking that kept her muscles tense since she woke up that morning.

Well, nerves played a part in that as well but Scott was the scapegoat she needed to put an extra pep in her step. For that day was the first day back at Beacon Hills High after the New Year and she wanted to start it off on a good foot. Last year's disaster was _not_ going to repeat itself.

Melanie's hand hovered over the horn once more when, finally, the window flew up and Erica Reyes stuck her head out. "I'm not ready!" she yelled out. "I have nothing to wear!" If her tousled blond hair and the large, gray sweats hanging off her body were of any indication, she didn't plan on leaving the house at all. And if Melanie weren't best friends with her, she would give in and let Erica stay there.

But they were best friends. And she was going to school whether she liked it or not.

Pumping the door handle, she pushed open the door of her truck and jumped down to the gravel driveway. Slamming it shut with her palm, she reached into the truck bed, grabbed her backpack, and headed straight into the house. Even if it weren't unlocked she had a spare key made her for. How else was she going to have ease of access when Erica suffered through one of her 'I hate the world' meltdowns? And besides, what kind of friend knocked?

That was the same thought that went though Melanie's mind as she barged her way right into Erica's room. Dropping her backpack on the ground, she brushed her black bangs out of her bright blue eyes and said sternly, "Okay, Eri, let's get the basics out of the way: you're not fat, your acne isn't bad, no, your hair's not too greasy, and for the love of _god_ you are gorgeous and I wish you would realize that. Okay!" She clapped her hands together. "Up and at 'em! We have first day of sophomore year to conquer."

Grumbling, Erica stepped back into her closet and began to push aside hangers. "Are you seriously going to try out for the lacrosse team again?" she called out. When she got an affirmative _mhm_ as a response she continued, "Coach Finstock didn't even let you try last year. What makes you think this year will be different?"

"Well, for starters, over the summer I practiced as much as I possibly could to get in better shape. And, another thing, I have the principal on my side this time." Melanie reached into her backpack and pulled out an envelope that had been sticking between her school books. Approaching the closet, she held it out for Erica to take and read. "As he and I noticed, nowhere in the rules does it say a girl can't try out for a male sports team. And since we don't have a female lacrosse team, male lacrosse is it."

Erica grunted, read the letter, and then held it back. "Are you sure you want to deal with Jackson again after last time?"

Melanie tucked the letter into the front pocket of her jean jacket and crossed her arms. "Whittemore can suck a dick for all I care. I am making the team this year and that's that." She scoffed. "In fact, Scott was supposed to help me practice last night but he never showed. Which is _why_ we need to get to school, so I can kick his ass for standing me up."

Erica paused, holding a shirt up to her chest. She tilted her head and regarded her dark haired friend. Licking her lips, she asked, "…You're still into him, aren't you?"

"What? Me? No. I'm over that. I've _been_ over that." Melanie waved her hand as if waving away the notion. Erica chose not to comment on the red color that had settled into her friend's cheeks. Instead she rid herself of her sweat shirt and tugged on the blouse that she had chosen. "I just think it's lame that you say you're going to do something and then you don't do it—and are you _seriously_ going to go with that shirt and those pants?" she directed at Erica's clothing choice.

"What's wrong with it?" She asked, looking down at her brown shirt and white pants. She tugged on the ends of her hair and bit her lip. Melanie could practically see the gears turning in her head as she worried her lip between her teeth.

"You look like an Oompa Loompa minus the bad tan," Melanie replied.

Erica released her lip from her teeth and tried to give Melanie a stern look but it didn't last long. Soon her face split into a smile and she found herself giggling. Leave it to Mel to be super blunt and forthcoming with her thoughts. Sighing, Erica tugged the shirt over her head and went for another one.

"Listen, Eri, forget what happened last year, alright? Forget all those other years. Forget everything except you, me, and the new school year where we can start over and make it right and make it _ours_." Melanie held out her hands. When Erica didn't walk towards her she wiggled her fingers and lifted her eyebrows, prompting Erica to finally grasp her hands. "Hey," she said gently. "Don't let anyone else into this brilliant head of yours. You may have a condition, but that's okay, because it doesn't define you. It's how you react to it that defines you. Okay?"

Erica nodded. A second later her lip began to tremble and she sniffed. "I just want to be like everyone else," she admitted.

Melanie smiled. "I know. And this year you can be like everyone else. Because this year is ours to do what we want with it. And what _I_ want to do with it is have you by my side for every single moment so when we're old and gray we can laugh about all the dumb stuff we went through and the dumb stuff we said as we rock in chairs on the porch and drink purple Kool-Aid."

Erica laughed and let go of Melanie's hands as she thought of that first day they met, ages ago. Back in fourth grade. Melanie had moved to Beacon Hills with her parents, of whom were longtime friends of her own parents. A play date had been set up for them by their mothers but they didn't get along right away. Melanie was into Pokémon while Erica was into Barbies. They fought all day long over what they were going to play, when they were going to play it, and who was going to play what part. The one thing that settled them down? Lunch time. A lunch that was accompanied by purple Kool-Aid, what they both quickly found out was their favorite drink. How a friendship formed from there, Erica didn't know, but she wouldn't trade Melanie for the world. What she lacked in courage Melanie made up for tenfold.

It was hard not to think that everything was going to be okay with Melanie around.

"Okay," Erica finally relented. "Let me pick something and then we can get going so you can kick Scott's ass." She had began to turn to the closet when she stopped, turned back, and added, "Don't forget—"

"I know, I know. I'll talk to Stiles…_after_ I have a chat with McCall."

###

Beacon Hills High School was buzzing by the time the two girls arrived for the start of the new school semester. Shrieks and screams of glee pierced the air every now and then of those that recognized their friends. Groups formed on the grounds as a quick catch-up session went on before first bell. Turning off the truck's engine, Melanie turned around to open the back window and pull her backpack through. She struggled a little when her lacrosse stick got stuck but she managed to wiggle it out and drop it onto her lap.

"So there's no way I can talk you out of this?" Erica asked, eyeing the newly laced lacrosse stick. "Not even reminding you of the concussion?"

"I wouldn't have gotten a concussion if Stiles could aim for shit," Melanie replied, her eyebrow popping up.

Erica sighed. Melanie could tell it was one of defeat and she grinned. "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Melanie leaned over and kissed Erica's cheek. "You're the best. Also, don't forget, I can't drive you home after school."

"I know. I have a doctor's appointment anyway." Erica popped open the passenger side door and got out of the truck. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she waved at her friend, ducked her head down, and headed into the school at a fast pace.

Melanie sighed as she watched her walk away. If it weren't for that YouTube video she could have her old Erica back. Alas, this was the Erica she had now and if that meant that she would have to hold her above the tossing sea by the arms then she would.

She would hold on for dear life. Because Erica was worth it.

Heaving her own bag over her shoulder, Melanie's blue eyes scanned the grounds for two familiar faces. She bobbed and weaved between the incoming students, muttering "excuse me" every now and then as she stepped in and out of people's way. Finally she spotted the two she was looking for and made a beeline for them, cutting in between other students to get to the two in question. If only she had timed her entrance better, that way she didn't have to deal with the secondhand embarrassment of Stiles being rejected by Lydia…_again_.

"You're the cause of this, y'know," Stiles was saying to Scott as Melanie sidled up to them. She rolled her eyes. Even Scott didn't seem to agree with him. As if Scott was the reason that Stiles was overzealous about is never-ending crushing on the one and only Lydia Martin. "Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association."

"You're a nerd because it's embedded in your genes—sorry for you and your future children," Melanie said, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

"Hey Mels," Stiles and Scott greeted her in unison. Stiles, smartly, ignored her jab.

"That's all I get?" she demanded. Scott's eyebrows furrowed. "'Hey Mels'? How about 'Hey Mels, sorry I forgot to come over last night and help you like I promised. I was a being a big asshole instead'." She twisted her mouth to the side and squinted as the seconds ticked by. Finally, as if a light bulb appeared over his head, he gasped. "Mhm," she hummed.

"Oh, man! I'm sorry! I totally forgot!" Scott gasped. "See, Stiles and I were—"

"—Were just talking about the upcoming lacrosse season," Stiles jumped in, slapping Scott on the shoulder. Melanie's squinting was replaced with a look that was purely incredulous. "Yeah, should be an interesting one. You're going to try out again, I see," he continued, nodding at the stick attached to her backpack. "Very brave of you."

Melanie snorted. "It's very brave of _you_ wouldn't you say?" Reaching out, she pinched Stiles's cheek between her forefinger and thumb and said in a babyish voice, "Wittle Stiles wants to join the big boys this year, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, that's the goal," he replied, slapping her hand away. With a wink he added, "Whether it happens on or off the field first is the question."

"Ew," Melanie uttered, making a face while Stiles smirked. "Didn't need to hear that."

"I'm sorry. I'll try talking _over_ you next time. The words will take longer to reach your ears." He waved his hands over the space above her head, mocking her short stature compared to his.

She blinked, her head tilting in confusion. "Wait…that's possible? That's an actual thing?" she asked.

Stiles's lips parted, an expression appeared on his face as if he had seen it all at that point. Scott chuckled and shook his head. "He was being sarcastic, Mels," he offered up.

"…Oh," Melanie said quietly. She hoped that Stiles would drop the subject—that wasn't the first time she had straight up believed his sarcasm—but of course, this was Stiles, he didn't know when to drop something.

Stiles threw his arms into the air. "Really. _Really._ Still can't quite catch up on that? You're-you're a real genius there, Crowe. S'not like you've had seven years to get used to it. No, not seven _long_ years. Never passed tests along the way. I should get you a translator, in fact. I'm sure Google would back me up on this."

"Shut up, _Piles!_" Melanie's cheeks burned red and her nostrils flared as Stiles shook his head, rubbing a hand over his short hair. He didn't have to rub it in! It wasn't like they were attached at the hip or anything! And was it bad that she didn't want to believe that anyone would lead her astray? She didn't think so. Frustrated, she had begun to draw her hand back to strike him when Scott pushed through the two of them.

"Okay, settle down." Sighing, he turned to Melanie. "I really am sorry, Mel. Something came up and I forgot. But maybe you didn't need my help. I'm sure you'll be great on your own." If she hadn't known them for years she would have carried the argument on but this was Scott McCall. One look in his puppy eyes and you'd give up any argument in a nanosecond.

"Thanks," Melanie replied, sounding as confident as she could muster. She bit her lip. As much as she wanted it she knew it would be an uphill battle to be taken seriously. Not just by Coach Finstock but by the other guys on the team as well. _Especially_ Jackson Whittemore. She would have to convince him to take her seriously if she ever wanted a shot at becoming a member of the team. Glancing over her shoulder when she felt eyes on her, she turned towards the school doors only to see Erica staring at her intently. Her body jolted when she remembered what she had walked over for. "Oh yeah! Hey, Stiles—"

_Riiiiiiing_.

The peal of the bell jumpstarted the sluggish students around the school. The three turned and joined the masses as they all herded inside. No matter, she could always talk to him later.

For now it was time for her first class of the day, English, of which she had with Stiles and Scott, thankfully. Unfortunately Erica wasn't in the class with them but having any sort of familiar face was better than nothing.

The class started off with the teacher talking about a dead body being found in the nearby woods, which got the class tittering with questions, of course. Even Melanie's interest was piqued. Things like that didn't just happen around Beacon Hills, not since the Hale House fire years ago. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked out of the corner of her eye to gauge Stiles' and Scott's reactions. They seemed to find the whole thing a joke.

Whatever.

Not long after the announcement the teacher directed their attention to their syllabus. Melanie hummed a tuneless song as she looked over the reading assignments, test dates, and—the most important part—the excuse policies. Melanie had begun to circle that section when the door opened and the Vice Principal entered with a tall girl by his side. She was introduced as Allison Argent and she took the empty seat behind Scott. Again, Melanie looked over her shoulder, this time to take a look at the new girl. Her eyebrows furrowed when Scott turned and gave her a pen.

How odd.

Giving her head a shake, Melanie turned back around to the front. If only she had turned sooner than she could have ignored the look of awe in his eye.

After a boring lecture about Kafka's _Metamorphosis_ the bell rang signaling the end of that class and the start of the five minute break to get to their next one. And so that class morphed into the next which melted into the next. Only Melanie wasn't paying that close attention to the day. She didn't need to, they only got syllabuses on the first day and the most homework they would get was to read something. Besides, the closer to lacrosse practice it got the more anxious she became. By the time the last bell of the day rang she bolted out of her seat as if she had been electrocuted.

Melanie left the room and made a beeline for her locker to swap out her books. Yanking open her locker door, she tossed her books in, making sure not to disturb the digital camera sitting on the top shelf. She closed her locker door only to turn and jump in startled fright when she saw she wasn't alone.

"Geeze—warn a girl!" she said as Allison lifted her head to look at her. "You're so damn quiet! Like a ninja."

"Thanks…I think," Allison said, slowly closing her door. "I'm Allison."

"I know," Melanie replied. "You got introduced at the start of English class. Kinda can't miss a name that's an alliteration." Leaning her shoulder against her locker door she glanced at Allison's outfit—of course it would look good on her—and then looked up at her. "'M Melanie."

Though it didn't seem as if Allison had heard her because her head was turned and she was smiling at something. Melanie tilted her head and sighed when she saw that her gaze was directed at Scott. Clearing her throat and shifting her weight, she had begun to move out of the way when Lydia Martin herself approached.

"That jacket is totally killer," she told Allison, one leg popping at the knee to shift her to a comfortable stance. "Where'd you get it?" Melanie wanted to wave her hand in Lydia's face and ask if she were invisible but there was no point. She already knew the answer and she didn't need Lydia Martin of all people reminding her.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," Allison replied.

Melanie rolled her eyes. _Of course_.

"And _you_ are my new best friend," Lydia said in approval. _Probably just because of the jacket and fashion opportunities._ Right when Melanie was about to walk away—not like anyone would notice—she found her path blocked by Jackson. Her eyes jumped up to the ceiling when the two leaned in for a kiss. Her muscles twitched with her suppressed urge to shove her way through them but the she would start the year off on the wrong foot with him and, unfortunately, she needed him on her side. It was a uphill battle but one she was willing to fight. Even if it meant avoiding his elbow.

"So, this weekend, there's a party," Lydia continued.

"A party?" Allison repeated.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah - Friday night." He stretched out his arm and rested it on the locker above Melanie's head, still ignoring her. She wondered if she tickled him in the armpit if he would notice it. "You should come."

" Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday," Allison declined, "Thanks for asking."

But Jackson relented, "You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Allison asked.

Jackson laughed. "Football's a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the past three years."

Melanie's face twisted into an expression of disgust as Lydia ran her fingers though his hair all but cooed, "Because of a certain team captain. " _Gag me with a spoon._

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes," Jackson continued, "That is, if you don't have anywhere else—"

" Well, I was going to—" Allison started.

"Perfect - You're coming," Lydia interrupted, grabbing Allison's hand and dragged her behind them, leaving Melanie behind. She threw one arm into the air and shook her head in disbelief. But that annoyance didn't last long as she looked down at the envelope in her jacket pocket. Because in a few short minutes she was going to be trying out for Beacon Hill's lacrosse team.

###

"What in the world do you think you're doing on my field, Crowe?" Coach Finstock's loud, grating voice jarred Melanie out of the focus that she had built up as she adjusted the pads on her shoulders. Whirling around, she caught a glimpse of the strained look on Erica's face bleachers for support. It was quickly overshadowed by the thundering expression on Coach's face being shoved into her vision as he towered over her.

"T-Trying out for lacrosse," she replied beneath his stern gaze. "Sir," she added for good measure.

"I thought I told you last year that I would have no girls on my team!" His voice carried so far across the field that everyone stopped to see why he was yelling. Melanie's skin burned, whether that was from everyone looking at her or from the fact that a grown man was yelling at her she couldn't differentiate.

She had a fight ready that morning when she was all fired up over Scott forgetting to meet her. It was nice and articulate and to the point but now, beneath his gaze, words failed her. So, gulping, she reached a hand into her helmet and withdrew the letter. The paper shook and wavered in her unsteady palm as she handed it over.

"Th-the p-principal says you c-can't stop me from t-trying out," Melanie stuttered as Coach snatched it out of her hands. "H-he says there is n-no rule that a g-girl can't try out for the team." His eyes cut to her as she spoke and she squeaked out a timid "_Sir_" at the end.

"Coach! I'm not going to have some…some _girl_ ruin my chances of another championship just because she wants to stretch out her dyke legs," Jackson spat, storming off the field.

Coach didn't respond right away. His face was hidden by the paper in his hands. Melanie looked over his shoulder to see Stiles and Scott approaching with their own gear. Her eyes then swiveled over to Erica whose eyebrows were furrowed together and a look of concern was etched across her features, making her angry acne turn a little bit redder. Melanie made a mental note to find a better cover up for her.

"_Coach!_" Jackson barked.

"Just let her try, Coach." For a minute Melanie didn't know who the incoming voice belong to. She searched a couple of faces on the bench—they turned away from her as if they didn't want to be involved—and then she finally found one person who stared back at her. Isaac Lahey. She hadn't even noticed he was on the field, let alone knew that he could speak. _Imagine that_.

Turning back to Coach, she noticed that he was staring at her. His jaw clenched so hard she was sure she would hear it snap in different places. Tension in the air pressed down on her shoulders and wrapped around her throat, slowly constricting. She began to hum, an involuntary sound that she seemed to produce whenever she was in a stressful situation. And getting stared down by Coach Finstock was the definition of stressful.

"—_Fine!_" he hissed, throwing the paper back in her face. "Suit up and get in line." Gasping in surprise, Melanie started to turn away to do as she was told only to let out a yelp with Coach grabbed onto her ponytail to stop her. "Only don't go crying when you break a nail, got it?"

"Got it," she replied, grimacing underneath the pressure being placed on her scalp. Coach let go of her hair and turned his attention to his newest victim, Scott.

Sighing, Melanie turned back to her equipment when she felt _another_ hand on her hair. "Ow! Okay, can we not do that?" she asked, this time coming face to face with Jackson.

"What, are you on your period or something?" he hissed.

"Uh…no. Not for another…week and three days," she quickly calculated.

For a second Jackson's eyebrows furrowed, his eyelids squinted, and a look of disgust appeared on his ace. But it disappeared a moment later as the fire in his eye ignited once more. "Shut up, dumbass. If you want to be stupid enough to try out, you go right ahead. But I will _not_ let you ruin our championships chances just because you got the idea that you can throw your boobs aside and play. This is a _sport_, not some _baking_ competition, get it?"

"What does baking—?" she started but Jackson's grip tightened on her hair which silenced her words. Breathing harshly, he lowered his head until his mouth was next to her ear.

"I'm only going to say this _once_: I don't care that you're a girl. If you're in my way, I'll take you out of it. Got it?"

Melanie turned her head, looked him in the eye, and said as steadily as possible, "You'll have to catch me first."

He expelled a harsh breath through his nose and stomped off. Rubbing the back of her head, Melanie went to grab for her gear again. The sound of footsteps on metal made her look up to see Erica rushing down to her.

"Don't," Melanie said, stopping Erica before she could open her mouth. "I can handle it, Eri."

"They can't just put their hands on you like that," Erica hissed, lowering her voice.

"It's-it's fine," Melanie replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. "I can handle it, really. I just want to show them what I can do."

"Yeah, but it starts here and ends where? With you in the hospital?" Erica demanded. "Mellie, be reasonable."

"I _am_," Melanie replied. "I'm out here showing everyone that a girl can do as well as if not better than a guy. I've wanted to play lacrosse for Beacon Hills High for a long time. You _know_ this." She paused. "I want this, Erica. I really do. Why are you stopping me?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," Erica replied, briefly grabbing at her wild hair. Their efforts at taming it that morning didn't seem to hold. "You're the only friend I have. I can't get through this without you."

Melanie clapped her on her shoulder with her glove. "I'm not going anywhere, Erica. I will always be here for you, no matter what."

"Promise?" Erica held up her pinky. Melanie took off her glove, locked their pinkies together, and nodded.

"Promise."

"Crowe! This isn't a tea party!" Coach yelled. "Get in line!"

Melanie widened her eyes and sighed. Erica smiled a small smile and went back to the bleachers, sitting at the far end away from Allison and Lydia who had just showed up and sat down. Melanie shook her head and put on her helmet. As she locked it beneath her chin and peered out between the bars on her cage she locked eyes with Isaac. He was the first to tear his eyes away, grabbing his stick and got in line. Shaking out her nerves as best as she could, she grabbed her stick and joined the back of the line only to lean past everyone to see Scott in goal.

The whistle sounded and soon they were throwing balls in Scott's direction. The first one smacked hi on the helmet, knocking him over, causing a groan and a few laughs to pepper trough the spectators. Melanie bit her lip, silently urging Scott to get up. Thankfully he did and he seemed okay.

Or, more than okay if the next throw was of ay indication. He caught the ball easily, almost as if he knew where it was going before it was thrown. She wasn't the only one surprised. She could see Scott's smile from all the way at the half line. Even Coach was gobsmacked. Scott wasn't the _best_ player on the team but suddenly he could catch? He had been second line last year for a reason…right?

Another player took a shot. Scott caught that too, almost with little effort. ON the sidelines Stiles let out a high pitched cheer of astonishment. Shot after shot Scott caught, his net being in the right place at the right time. More students trickled out to the fields to see what was going on and what the cheering was about.

Finally it was Melanie's turn. She bounced up and down on her toes to get herself pumped up. She flashed a thumbs up sign to Erica, fixed her grip on her lacrosse stick, and stepped forward…

…only to have Jackson slap his lacrosse stick across hers, keeping her back. She opened her mouth to protest but he glared at her. It was enough to keep her rooted to the spot as he growled under his breath, ready to take Scott on. Seeing that look in his eye, she felt bad for him. She wouldn't want to go up against him when he looked _that_ crazy.

Jackson charged the goal and took a shot…only for Scott to catch that one too.

"Yeah! Go Scott!" Melanie cheered along with others on the sidelines. Jackson shot her a withering glare and then turned his stare over to Lydia in the stands who held his gaze.

Amidst Stiles cheers of "that's my best friend!" and the applause on the sidelines Melanie yanked off her helmet and squinted across the field. As much as she was impressed by his display one thought shot through her mind.

What had gotten into Scott McCall?

###

_**a/n**_ - _So, what did you think? This is my first foray into the Tee Wolf fandom and I know I'm a bit late starting in but I just started watching the show two days ago and I'm all caught up and this idea came to mind. I always thought Erica was an interesting character and thought she would have at least one friend so that's how this story started. It follows the events of the show starting from episode one but there will be deviations from it here and there to go along with what I have planned for this story. Thank you for taking the time to read this first chapter, please let me know what you think of it so far, especially with my character. Like her? Hate her? All constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!_

_Genres: (Sine ffn only lets us choose two.) Supernatural, Romance, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Mystery, Angst, Suspense._

_Pairings: Isaac/OC, Erica/OFC __ (same OC, not a love triangle), Scallison, Jydia, Berica_


	2. Don't Believe the Myth

**Chapter 2: Don't Believe the Myth  
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"So what happened after I left? Were you able to get a chance to show off your skills?" Erica's question seemed to overtake all sound in Melanie's room due to her putting her phone on speaker. She didn't want to keep her head tilted while she practiced her stick handling and end up with a crick in her neck. Coach was looking for any excuse to make sure she wasn't on the team, it seemed. Not that he needed to do that by himself, Jackson seemed to have the same plan in mind.

"Not really," Melanie replied, twisting her stick in her grip as she paced. "Coach kept Scott in goal for the most part and Jackson wouldn't let anyone else take him on until he got a shot in. By the time that happened we only had fifteen minutes left which were reserved for conditioning." Her lungs still ached from the sprints they were ordered to do. The hot bath she took once she got home felt like heaven on her overworked muscles.

"Aww, that sucks. But you have another practice tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. We figure out if we're first string or not. If we don't make it we're benched for the rest of the season and don't play." Melanie sighed. "I _have_ to make the team, Eri, I just have to. If I don't I'll die."

Erica's laugh filled the air. "Didn't you say the same thing about seeing Simple Plan in concert?"

"And look who's still alive," Melanie pointed out, causing the two girls to burst into laughter. Once it subsided, Melanie dropped her stick onto her bed and sat down in her computer chair. Pulling her phone closer to her laptop, she began clicking around on the open tabs. "Can you believe how amazing Scott was today?"

"He did so well. It's strange, he wasn't this good last year," Erica commented.

"Yeah. What in the world made him better in one day? D'you think he was bitten by some radioactive spider?"

"Well, we haven't seen giant spider webs in town so I think that can be ruled out." The phone crackled as she sighed. "Maybe he just improved."

"Overnight?" Melanie's eyebrow lifted to reflect the incredulous tone attached to her words. "While Stiles is still hopeless?"

"Well, you're asking the wrong girl. I don't know much about sports."

"Fair point. Hey, did you hear anything else about that dead body in the woods?"

"No, I haven't heard a thing. I don't think I want to either."

Melanie ignored her statement as she continued speaking. "So I was trying to figure out what it could be that would have attacked and killed that person. I mean, it was split in half, so I hear. And what kind of animal out here would do that?"

"Melanie," Erica started.

Melanie ignored her again. "I looked some stuff up and then I realized—duh!—it's freaking obvious what it was!"

"Mel."

"It was a wendigo! It had to be a wendigo. See, a wendigo is a demonic half-beast that can possess characteristics of a human or a monster that had transformed from a person. And you want to know what they're known for? Cannibalism. Yeah! Cannibalism! Can you believe that? It has this emaciated frame, thin skin, and no lips because, supposedly, they eat them. Sick, huh? Anyway, I was thinking—"

"_Melanie_!" Erica shouted, successfully stopping her friend's stream of information. "For one thing, that's disgusting and I think you've been reading too many mythology books. For another, I don't think that a…windigo?...is an actual thing, let alone something that attacked someone in the woods. And for another, did you ever talk to Stiles?"

Melanie sucked in a breath, her nose wrinkling simultaneously. She had spoken to Stiles throughout the day…just not about what she wanted her to talk to him about. But, in her defense, it was hard to bring the subject up because Scott was either talking about Allison or Stiles was talking about Lydia. Having one obsessed boy on her hands was one thing but having them both? That was another. It was enough to make her want to stab her eardrums with sharpened pencils.

"Sorry, I never got a chance to bring it up. But, I mean, this is _Stiles_ we're talking about. It's a very safe bet that he doesn't have a girlfriend," she reasoned, leaning back in her chair. At the sound of a knock on her door she tilted her head back all the way to see who it was that was standing in her doorway.

"Dinner's ready," her father, Laurence, said.

"Alright, I'll be right there. I'm just talking to Erica," Melanie replied, lifting her head so she was sitting up straight. She blinked; her hands held up in midair, and then grasped her head. "Whoa, head rush. Anyway, I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Orrrr….y'know, you could talk to him yourself?"

"No way," Erica replied almost immediately. Melanie huffed. She had known Stiles and Scott as long as Melanie had known them and yet she had hardly said ten words to them in the past few years alone. Her crush on Stiles couldn't be _that_ debilitating could it?

"Eri, they're cool guys. I mean, the rest of the school may not think so but they're fun to spend time with. And just once I want to have lunch with all of you instead of having to pick and choose."

Erica sighed. For a while she didn't say anything in response. Melanie even had to check her phone to be sure that she was still on the line and they hadn't been disconnected. "It's just…too complicated." Melanie pressed her lips together. Complicated was code for she didn't feel comfortable enough with herself to want to put herself out there and sit with them. And it bugged her. Here she thought Erica was one of the coolest people in the world but that meant nothing if she didn't believe it herself. "I don't get why you even want to be seen with me sometimes."

"Because I don't give a shit what others think, the only opinion I care about is yours," Melanie replied almost automatically. "And the only one _you_ should care about is mine and I think you're fucking awesome." She held up her finger when her father cleared her throat. "Look, I have to go eat. But after dinner maybe you could help me with Chemistry 'cause none of this is making sense to me."

"Sure. Once you get the formulas it's pretty easy."

"Says the girl who's held a 3.8 GPA since middle school."

"Well, when you have no one else to hang out with studying becomes something to do to fill time."

Ignoring her comment Melanie bid her goodbye and jabbed her phone screen to hang up the phone. Spinning around in her chair, she faced the door and stood. Stretching her arms above her head, she staggered forward and leaned into her father's side as he wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Good day?" he asked, rubbing her back as they went downstairs. The scent of cooked dinner wafted up the stairs and met them halfway. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered as she inhaled the smells.

"Yeah, I guess," Melanie replied. The two entered the kitchen right as her mother, Arabella, took her seat that the small round table. She and Laurence sat down in their respectful places, bowed their heads for a quick grace, and began passing around dishes to serve helpings on their plates. "As good as the first day back can be," she said, continuing the conversation. "Coach Finstock is letting me try out for the team, though, so that's good."

"This late in the season?" Arabella asked, pausing with her fork to her mouth.

"Well, it would have been earlier if I didn't have that concussion," Melanie explained, licking cheese sauce off her thumb. "It wasn't even that bad but Coach didn't want to risk it, so he says. Anyway, because the principal is on my side I can try out. Didn't get much in today, though. Somehow Scott got crazy good and so Jackson's ego was bruised and he wouldn't let anyone else go against him. But tomorrow we play for first line so hopefully I'll have my chance then. Cross your fingers."

"Jackson," Arabella said slowly. "That Whittemore boy? The one that's a bit…overzealous?" The worry in her tone wasn't lost on Melanie. It didn't help that her eyebrows were knitted together to the point that it made her worry lines deepen.

"He's focused," Melanie corrected her. _Focused to the point of wanting to annihilate anything in his path._ "But if I'm going to be on the team I'll have to beat the best, and that's him." She shoved macaroni into her mouth to avoid having to answer any question that her mother may ask next. After all, it was rude to talk with her mouth full.

"Sweetie, maybe you should rethink this," Arabella said, reaching for her glass of wine. "You could get hurt. You're smaller than those boys."

"She can use that to her advantage," Laurence jumped in. He paused to cut a piece of steak and placed it in his mouth. "She's lower to the ground for a better center of gravity and she could be quicker than some of the boys."

"Yes, but what I am saying is that they may not take it kindly that a girl is on the team," Arabella commented.

"So long as she proves her worth it shouldn't matter."

"Laurence, you're not hearing me."

"I'm hearing you fine, honey."

"Okay, we don't even know if I've made the team yet. No sense in worrying about the 'what ifs', right?" Melanie jumped in, trying to change the subject to a better topic. The tension settled upon them like a sudden rain storm. She could almost see gray clouds growing above their heads.

"What if she makes it on the team, what then?" Arabella demanded, clutching her wine glass in her hand. Her knuckles began to turn white at how hard she was gripping the glass.

"Then she plays," Laurence replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"And it's that easy?"

"Yes."

"_No._ What if she gets hazed? What if she gets teased? What if she gets bullied?"

"Look, I can handle whatever the guys throw my way," Melanie tried to speak up. "I have Scott and Stiles there and—"

"Honey, please," Arabella interrupted her. She finally set down her wine glass and crossed her arms over her chest. Her bright blue eyes bore into her husband as she broke her usually proper posture to slump in her seat. "Your father and I are having a discussion."

"I know. About me. And since I'm the subject I would like to think that I get a say in it," Melanie continued. "Let's just have dinner."

But she could already tell that her pleas were falling on deaf ears. That hard look appeared in their eyes, which meant they weren't going to give up anytime soon. Which only meant that one or both of them were going to go to bed angry.

Melanie slumped in her chair and picked at her food, having lost her appetite. Their arguments had become a bit more frequent, she couldn't help but notice. It started out as the odd argument here and there as the holidays drew near. She had attributed it to stress since their arguments stopped around Christmas and New Years. But as soon as the date changed to January 2nd the petty fights started up again. A dish wasn't dried completely. Shoes were left by the front door. A silverware drawer had been left open. And would it kill them to remember to close the cabinet door?

"I just don't want her to get hurt, Laurence," Arabella continued.

"And you think _I_ do?"

"I didn't say that!"

Heaving a sigh, Melanie pushed back against the small table. Her chair scraped against the floor at the effort. She thought that, of all things, would stop them from fighting but it was as if they hadn't heard a sound. Figures. Abandoning her food, she took the stairs two at a time and went back to her room. Dropping down in her chair, she whirled around and woke up her computer screen right as she got a skype call.

"You have amazing timing," she relayed to Erica.

"I was taking a chance that you were back by now. You eat fast," she replied. She was lying down on her bed, clad in her sweats. Her legs kicked through the air as she flipped through the pages in a textbook.

"Actually, I barely ate. Couldn't get anything down with the atmosphere down there," Melanie relayed, slumping in her seat.

Erica paused, a highlighter hanging out of the corner of her mouth. "They're fighting again?"

Melanie rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Yep, over lacrosse this time. Mom's worried I'll get hurt. I mean, I don't _blame_ her but…I was hoping she'd give some support."

"You're her only kid, it's understandable." Erica paused and then a sly smile appeared on her face. "Hey, take a look under your pillow."

"Why? Did you put Alex Pettyfer there?" Melanie joked as she pulled out the plug so she could move to her bed. She pried her shoes off her feet by stepping on the heels and then rested against the mountain of pillows that lay against the headboard. Once she was comfortable she stuck her hand beneath the pillows and felt something crinkle. Eyebrows furrowed, she pulled it out and then grinned at Erica's enthusiastic "tah dah!"

"Erica! When did you do this?" Melanie asked, laughing in glee as she dug her hand into the bag of mini Snickers that now lay on her keyboard.

"I asked my mom to stop by after my appointment," she replied. She propped her cheek upon her palm; her blond hair cascaded to one side. "I didn't anticipate your parents' fighting but I thought it would come in handy after your practice today."

"See, this is why I love you and we'll be married one day. Mark my words." Melanie tugged the wrapping paper off the candy and bit it in half. "And we'll have it on the beach with a bonfire reception like we've always wanted. Remember? With fireworks and sparklers and mason jars to catch fireflies."

"And twinkly lights?" Erica asked.

"Yeah," Melanie replied, getting comfortable against the pillows. "And twinkly lights."

**# # #**

The next morning roused Melanie bright and early due to the sounds of the kitchen door slamming shut, Arabella on her way to open up the town's local flower shop, of which Melanie helped out sometimes, and Laurence on his way to the town's motorcycle dealership.

They made a weird pair at face value. Laurence a tall, handsome, muscular man with a stubble-covered chin, heavy eyebrows, and dark eyes that appeared intimidating at first glance. It probably didn't help that some nights he took to teaching MMA fighting style to those willing to learn. As compared to Arabella, a graceful, thin thing who always knew what to wear, what to say, and what to do. A hair was never out of place on her head, her makeup was always on point, and she had an air about her so peaceful that anyone speaking to them became conflicted on how to react. Melanie swore she modeled once at one point but her mother always shot down her claims.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she brushed crud away and yawned. After an all night stud marathon with Erica over Chemistry, History, and Economics she wasn't particularly excited to have to go over it again in school of all places. But it was another day for her to try and show Coach Finstock she knew what she was doing and that was her only motivation for getting up for the day.

Pushing aside her laptop, which was still open to a tab about super humans, she grabbed her clothes for the day and jumped in the shower. She turned up the volume on her water-proof radio and sung along to the current Top 40 hits that played one right after another. Some people thought in the shower, she held a concert in the shower along, shampoo bottle microphone and all.

After two encores, she finally stepped out of the shower and dried off. She dried her hair, brushed her teeth, and jumped into her clothes once she noticed the time on the clock on the wall. She was going to be late picking up Erica. Leave it to the girl still not having her license. Mrs. Reyes claimed it was because she wasn't ready for it but they both knew why: she didn't want to risk Erica having a seizure behind the wheel.

If she were to be honest with herself, Melanie was worried about that as well. She was used to Erica's random seizures by now. Hell, with the whole YouTube video fiasco she was the only one who knew _not_ to put anything in her mouth because she could break her teeth. In fact, Melanie was sure that Erica biting through her tongue was a better risk than breaking her teeth.

The first time she had seen Erica have a seizure was when they had just started middle school and were having a sleepover to celebrate getting through the first week. There they were, sitting on Melanie bed, eating candy and playing computer games when she noticed that something was off with Erica.

She was sitting against her headboard but she wasn't moving. Her eyes rolled in her head and when they weren't she was staring off into the distance. Melanie screamed for her parents and they came charging in in a flurry. It wasn't long after that she had learned that Erica was epileptic and that she had been skipping some of her medication.

"I just wanted to be normal," she said when Melanie asked her about it the next day. "I wanted to be like everyone else." Thankfully it was only a petit mal seizure and not a grand mal seizure that Erica had experienced. Ever since that day Melanie made sure to check on Erica's medication routine, acting like a second mother in that respect, all the while making it her mission to help Erica realize that she was like everyone else and she was normal and, no, she wasn't fat. Middle School was a trying time on its own, Erica didn't deserve the extra pressure. But hey, teens were cruel, what could they do?

Grabbing her backpack and lacrosse stick, Melanie shoved her phone into her pocket and raced down the stairs. She ran into the kitchen to grab an apple and then ran out the door to her truck…only to run back and lock the door she had forgotten about and then jump into her truck.

Throwing her bag and stick to the back, she slammed the door shut and turned the keys in the ignition. Her truck roared to life. Shifting the car into the reverse, she jammed her foot against the gas pedal and shot backwards out of the driveway. It was a good thing she looked in the rearview mirror as she went for, in the last second, something popped into her view.

"_Shit!_" she yelled, stomping on the brakes. With a loud squeak her truck stopped. Heart beating hard in her chest, she put the vehicle into park and shakily got out. Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, she slowly walked to the back of the car to see what it was that had made her stop. Right behind her back left tire was a trembling, brown and black ball. Crouching, Melanie got closer to get a better look. "Hey, it's okay," she cooed to the little thing. "It's okay. You can come out now."

As she reached her hands forward she saw that the little ball had four feet, a tail, and big brown eyes. It was a German Shepherd puppy. She gently wrapped her arms around the puppy's torso and held him close to her chest. Its small body continued to tremble in her arms as she went back to her truck. She would just take a little detour to the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic and then get on her way to school; just to be sure it was alright.

**# # #**

"Oh, so _that's_ why you were so late this morning," Erica mused aloud as she leaned against the locker right by Melanie's as she pulled books out of her backpack and shoved them into her locker. It was the middle of the day and the first time Melanie really had a chance to explain what had gone on that morning. After dropping the puppy off with Dr. Deaton she had raced to get Erica and drove them to school as fast as she could to make sure they made it in before first bell. Thankfully, they had, even with the dance party they had in the car on the way over. But it hadn't given them enough time to talk before classes started. "I hope the puppy's okay."

"Well, I didn't run it over so I think it's a safe bet that it's fine," Melanie replied. "Although he said he's going to call me later and then put up lost dog signs." She shoved her stick into her locker and started pulling out more books. "It had no tags so my guess is that it was recently purchased for someone."

"Or abandoned," Erica said quietly.

Melanie paused, a sick feeling twisting in her stomach at the mere idea. "Or that," she agreed. "But if it's not claimed in a certain amount of time he said I can keep it. I've always wanted a dog."

"Yeah, but will your mom let you have one?" Erica asked.

Melanie shrugged. "I can get my dad to convince her. That can't be too hard." Deep inside of her she scoffed. Who was she kidding? Trying to convince her would probably end up in another fight but se was sure once her mother saw the little dog's face she would be won over immediately. She already was checked her phone every five minutes. In fact, she instinctively looked down again.

"Waiting for something?" Melanie lifted her head as Allison approached her locker. Erica muttered something and moved out of her way. Allison's eyebrows lifted as she opened her locker door, waiting for Melanie to answer.

"Oh. Uhm, yeah. Just a phone call is all," she replied, shoving her phone into her pocket. "S'not all that important."

Smiling gently Allison closed her locker door and replaced the lock. "They're all important when it comes to girls, right?" she asked softly.

Before Melanie could answer the bell rang. Students milling by their lockers were now on the move. "I got French now so I'll catch you later, Eri," she told Erica.

"At lunch?" she asked. "It's pizza day."

"Definitely!" Melanie replied, her eyes lighting up at the news. "You get the pizza, I'll save a table."

"Deal." The two high fived and Erica rushed off to her class.

Melanie turned around to get to her class only to jump and flinch when she noticed Allison still standing there. "Geeze!" she cried out, her hand jumping to he chest. Her heart beat hard beneath her skin. She sighed, "A ninja, I'm telling you."

"Sorry," Allison said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's just…you said you had French now. And I have that class too. I figured we could…walk together."

Melanie had to stop her nose from wrinkling. Something about the new girl was off to her, rubbed her the wrong way, but then she sighed. She knew what it was like to be the new kid and being a new kid in high school wasn't easy. Even I she did have Lydia Martin on her side. So, pushing aside her initial annoyance she nodded her head, signaling them forward. "You have Ms. Morrell, right?" she asked. Allison nodded. "Good. She's the best French teacher in the world. You got lucky."

"Oh? Well that's good," Allison said. "I haven't been taking French long. I still get some of the conjugations wrong." Melanie's eyebrows furrowed. The statement had her a bit confused. Her last name was a French one if she wasn't mistaken, so how couldn't she…? Then she mentally slapped herself. _Just because she may possibly be of French origin doesn't mean she actually knows the language, dummy._ Melanie was pulled out of her thoughts when Allison cleared her throat. "How long have you been taking French?"

"Me? Oh just since Middle School," Melanie replied with a wave of her hand. In actuality she had studied French a lot longer only due to a deal her mother had made her when she was younger. Melanie wanted to take singing lessons but her mother wanted her to take French lessons instead to try and make her more "cultured". Eventually they reached a compromise; Melanie could take her lessons so long as she got good marks on any French test her tutor brought to her. "It's not that hard of a language, I don't think. You just have to remember everything is masculine or feminine."

That made Allison chuckle. "I always found that a bit silly, giving objects genders."

Melanie couldn't help but laugh as well. It _was_ a funny thought. "Yeah, how are we supposed to tell if an apple is a boy or a girl anyway?"

Changing her voice to a stage whisper Allison said, "By the length of their stem. But they don't want us checking for that. Modesty and all."

By the time the two girls reached the classroom their cheeks were bright red from laughing so hard. They slipped in just before Ms. Morrell closed the door and they took the two remaining seats left in front of Isaac. Allison chose the furthest one away leaving Melanie to sit in front of him. She lifted her chin in acknowledgement of him in a very sporty manner. All he did was blink in response. Okay, whatever. Melanie sat down and got out her notebook.

"So," Allison whispered, turning around. Melanie lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. But she paused and played with one of the bent spirals on her notebook, her eyes downcast. Finally she sighed, looked up at Melanie and said, "I hear you're friends with Scott?"

"And Stiles," Melanie replied. "Kinda," she added. "We're not best friends, not like those two are, but we are decent friends. Good friends, I guess." Her nose wrinkled. It was weird trying to decipher what they were. While she didn't eat with them every day and didn't hang out with them as much as she did Erica she did consider them friends. That was good enough. Then her eyes narrowed as she remembered the way they were looking at each other the day before. Her muscles tensed in preparation. "Why?" she hoped she didn't sound as suspicious as she felt.

"Oh, I just—"

But Allison couldn't finish for Ms. Morrell started clapping her hands, asking them for their attention. Once she had it she stood at the front of the room and leaned on her desk. "Okay, class. As we've been covering so far, we are going to continue to learn about travel and geography in this semester. So what better way to start off the semester than with a project?" That earned groans from the class of which se brushed off. "It won't be long. All you are going to do is research a country in Europe and explain why you would like to visit as well as give a few facts about the culture. You will split into groups of two."

At this Allison turned around and widened her eyes, silently asking for Melanie to be her partner. She hesitated and licked her lips. Ms. Morrell clapped her hands again to get everyone's attention. "The groups have already been picked out and the countries have already been assigned. Please, make your way to the library. The rest of the class will be dedicated to beginning your research."

Collecting her books, Melanie followed the masses to the library. While in the hall she lifted the headphones that had been resting around her neck and placed them over her ears. Ms. Morrell usually didn't mind if they listened to music while they worked so long as their duties were divided up in a way that both partners had a chance to get equal work done.

Once entering the library Melanie was told that she was assigned Greece which excited her. She had always been into Greek Mythology. Skipping off to the world travel section and singing along to the song playing beneath her breath, she dragged her fingers along some of the book spines until she found a few books that grabbed her attention. She even got a few mythology books for good measure, and so she could read about it while under the guise of actually working.

Now dancing a little due to the pop music that flowed through her ears, she carried her books back to the table she had chosen. Setting them down, she turned to her backpack and began to dig her for her notebook. Once she pulled it out she finally let gravity take her down to sit in a chair…

…only to sit on someone's lap instead.

"_Holy shit_!" she shrieked in surprised, jumping up. In her haste to back away, the backs of her knees hit the other chair behind her and she fell end over end onto the floor in a heap. She popped back onto her feet in a second, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as she looked around. Sure enough, she had everyone's attention. Throwing her arms into the air she cheered "and she _sticks_ the landing!" earning a few laughs. Setting her chair upright she sat down and then rubbed her face in her hands. Only when the overwhelming feeling of being watched got to her she spread her fingers and looked through them to see that it was Isaac, of all people, was sitting next to her and looking at her. "Sorry!" she squeaked, dropping her hands. "I-I didn't see you there. This school, full of ninjas. You were so quiet. I didn't even…and I _sat_ on you! Oh god, I'm so sorry!"

"It's-it's okay," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "You probably couldn't hear because of the…" he pointed to his ears.

What? Melanie reached her hands up and then smacked herself in the forehead with her palm. She had completely forgotten she was wearing headphones. She slowly took them off her ears and hung them around her neck. Silence stretched out between them. Melanie began to hum. Then, for something to do, she grabbed the books she had dropped onto the table and pulled them towards her.

"So! Greece! We got a good one, eh?" she asked, trying to make conversation as she flipped through the pages. "I thought we could talk about some mythology, if that's alright with you. Maybe act something out?" At the way his eyes widened and the expression of horror on his face she quickly backtracked. "Okay! No acting. I get it. But maybe we can choose one story and stick with that? Like…." she flipped pages so rapidly that, unsurprisingly to her, she got a papercut. "Ouch," she muttered, turning her thumb over to look at the cut. It wasn't too bad but it stung.

"Y-you okay?" Isaac asked, looking over at her.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. A papercut's not gonna stop me. I have a practice to dominate after all." _If I ever get a chance to get on the field today, that is_. Licking her thumb again, she turned a few more pages and then stopped on a picture of a naked bird-like woman. Well, her body was all woman but she had wings growing out of her back and she was sitting on rocks, beckoning to a boat. Melanie's eye swiveled over to the large words on the other page that announced what that chapter was about: Sirens. "What?" she asked, looking up again to find Isaac looking at her.

"It's just…you're still trying out?" he asked, playing with a pen in his hands. "For lacrosse, I mean?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied sternly. "Is that a problem?" She wondered how long it would take for him to join the masses of the team. Did Jackson get to him too?

Isaac shook his head. "No. I don't. I'm just checking." He fell silent. Thinking the conversation was over; Melanie grabbed her notebook and flipped it open to a blank page. She hesitated for a moment, wondering she should write her notes in French or English first. Shrugging, she went with ease and decided to write it down in English first. "I-I think it's cool," he added.

He spoke so suddenly Melanie had no idea what he was talking about. "You think what's cool?" she asked.

"Oh, uhm, that you want to play on the team," he explain, tapping his pen against his palm.

"Oh!" She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thanks." She held his gaze for a moment and then went back to writing her notes. Isaac followed her lead and opened up a book. "I just hope it all works out," she muttered under her breath. Who knows what practice would be like today if Scott's sudden improvements weren't a fluke.

###

_**a/n**_ - Thanks for the reviews, favs, and alerts so far! I'm glad to see that people like this story and find Melanie like a real girl. As if you couldn't tell already, I love writing Erica's and Melanie's friendship. It puts warm fuzzies in my heart. They're just so cute together. It makes me a bit sad writing it sometimes with what I already have planned in mind but it must be done. And there was more Isaac in this chapter! Yay Isaac! Knowing how important he becomes later I threw him in so there wasn't too much backstory in this chapter. I can't give Melanie away all at once, right? So, she's already a bit suspicious of the goings on around Beacon Hills but how much does she _really_ know? You're going to have to keep reading to find out! Please review and enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcomed._  
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	3. Something's Fishy

**Chapter 3: Something's Fishy**

After practice that afternoon Melanie did her best to walk and make sure it looked like she was okay despite feeling pain all over her body. She knew the boys wouldn't go easy on her in practice but she didn't expect to be in _that_ much pain. Even her eyelashes hurt. Jackson's vendetta against Scott seemed to spill over to everyone else. Anyone that was in his way he bulldozed over, including her. He knocked her around, slammed into her, smacked at her wrists with his stick, pushed her aside, whipped the ball at any part of her that wasn't protected, anything he could do to show that he didn't consider her an opponent.

But despite all of that she did her best to show why she deserved to be on the team. She ran faster than a good chunk of the boys and being smaller had its evasive advantages. Her catching and stick handling could do with some more improvement but out of ten shots on goal she managed to make six. She worked hard to push through the pain and keep up with the boys. Having Scott and Stiles shouting encouragement when they weren't playing helped her a lot.

But even after all that she had to keep her head up high and any trace of pain off her face as she did her best not to limp back to the locker room once practice was over with. Jackson sure did a number on her, if she were to be honest. Of course she wouldn't say that to his face, why give him another reason to ridicule her.

He was a weird one. His lacrosse captain status made him a raging lunatic whenever the season started up, which amplified his jerkish tendencies. But when it came to the swim season he seemed a bit mellower towards her, which was saying something. Maybe it helped that she was one of the top swimmers on the team.

It was almost like she was a fish when she was in the water, she could swim for days if it were humanly possible. There was nothing that could ease her mind better than a good swim. She would go for it now but she wasn't sure that her arms or legs would work properly enough to keep her above water.

As she slowly pulled off her padding she thought back to how Scot dominated the field again. It just didn't make sense. This wasn't a Disney movie, how could he go from zero to hero so fast? Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her practice shirt and pulled it off over her head. Her mind briefly went to drugs as a solution but then she wiped that away. Steroids didn't work that fast, not overnight. So what could it be?

Her mind didn't get a chance to come up with any sort of explanation when the door opened. Expected to see Erica, Melanie leaned forward to greet her but felt her words dying on her tongue when Lydia flounced in with Allison walking in behind her.

"Yeah?" Melanie asked, brushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead. She couldn't be the only one who found the visit weird. She and Lydia have hardly spoken to each other over the years.

"Okay, I'm only going to say this once," Lydia said while brushing her hair off her shoulder. "We just wanted to say that we think it's…_interesting_ that you want to try out for the lacrosse team." She wrapped one arm across her stomach while holding her other up, her purse hanging from the crook in her elbow.

"Thank…you," Melanie said slowly, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two girls. Did Lydia Martin just give her a compliment? Was the world ending?

"What she means is we and the rest of the girls thinks it's great what you're doing," Allison said, her hands gripping the strap of her cross-body bag.

"Yeah, only, make sure you stay out of Jackson's way," Lydia continued. She popped open her purse and dug around until she found her compact mirror and lipgloss. With a few swipes of the wand across her lips, she pinched it shut and then fluffed up her hair. "This may be revolutionizing to the school and all but if you cost us the championship…you'll regret it." She then smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Melanie stared as, with a flip of her hair, Lydia turned and stalked out of the locker room. Allison glanced at Melanie over her shoulder before following her friend out. Melanie let out the breath she had been holding. That wasn't as bad as she expected but it still left he reeling. Lydia was a strong force at the school; she could get anyone to do what she wanted, especially with having the lacrosse team on her side. Angering her _and_ them was not an option if she wanted to live to see her graduation.

"Owww," she whimpered as she tried to tug a t-shirt down over her head. The angry bruise on her ribs was going to take a long while to go away, she could already tell. Now how was she going to hide it from her mom? Good thing she didn't have to worry about it just yet, she still had to stop by the Animal Clinic and drop Erica off at her house.

Finally managing to change back into her school clothes, which took a good ten minutes, she grabbed her bag and lacrosse stick and dragged them to the door to leave. She pushed open the door and had managed to get her backpack up on her shoulder only to stop when she came face to face with Stiles who was smiling at her. It was a creepy sort of smile that made her stop in her tracks.

"Dear god. That'd be a good face to use next Halloween, scare all the children away," she commented.

"Ha! You're so funny, Mels! What a knee slapper!" Stiles said loudly, reaching out to pat her arm. "This girl – so funny," he addressed the air next to him as if someone was there, jerking his thumb at her. "You're a riot, Crowe, that you are. A real…riot. Yeah." He stopped laughing and then popped his lips. "So! Can I borrow some of your books?"

Melanie blinked, her mind still reeling from his odd spiel. But that was Stiles for you, he was a bit odd. "What books?" she asked.

"Your supernatural books. The ones with ghosts and monsters and beings and stuff in them," he replied. "_Those_ books."

"Oh!" She knew which ones he was referring to. She had only read them religiously throughout middle school. She didn't even need to look at them anymore to be able to recall information from it at the drop of a hat. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I don't have them on me right now but I can bring them in for you tomorrow."

"You will? Aw yes! Thanks! You rock!" he cheered, punching his fist into the air. "Great job on the field today, too."

"Mmm, you mean when I wasn't being body slammed into the ground by Whittemore?" Melanie asked, rolling her eyes. "Like, geeze, I get the guy's obsessed with Scott's new found powers and everything but….grrr! Can he lighten up?"

"Powers? Why powers? Why'd you say powers? Why powers?" Stiles demanded. His eyes were wide and he scratched behind his ear as he rattled off at the mouth. "I mean, ah, it's a very strange word to use, powers. Now that I think about it that's a weird word – powers. It's like combining 'pow' and 'flowers' only – uh – not really. Y'know?"

"No," Melanie replied deadpan. Her head tilted in concern as she stared at him. His eyes darted around the longer she stared at him. Clicking her tongue, she stepped forward and whispered, "How much Adderall have you taken today?"

"Oh, not that much, really!" Stiles replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he backed away from her. "So you'll bring the books in? Great! Thanks! See you later!" He flashed a double thumbs up, turned, and then bolted down the hallway. Melanie stood still as she listened to his quickly fading footsteps and then the distinct sound of the door slamming open.

"Okayyy, weirdo," Melanie muttered aloud. Lifting her bag higher, she went out the closest door to her and walked around the school building to the parking lot where Erica was waiting by her truck. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I had a run in with Lydia."

"_Lydia_?" Erica repeated, eyes wide. "Lydia wanted to talk to you?"

"I know, crazy right? Yeah, she and Allison were saying, basically, how they were glad that I'm trying to get on the lacrosse team and how I'm an inspiration to women everywhere or something." She threw her backpack and stick into the bed of her truck, unlocked the door with the push of a button, and climbed into the driver's seat. "Oww," she muttered under her breath. She tried to cut it off before Erica heard but it didn't stop her friend from catching on.

"I knew you'd get hurt," Erica said as she buckled up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing a bath can't cure." _And a whole jar of cover up added in for good measure. _She stopped reversing when she noticed the stern expression on Erica's face. "_Really_. It's not that bad."

Erica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?" she demanded.

Melanie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. "How honest do you want me to be?" she asked, stalling for time.

"Extremely."

"_Oh my god,_ _I'm gonna die!_" Melanie wailed, her shoulders slumping as she gave into the pain that took over her body. Erica threw her head back and laughed. Melanie tried to glare at her but her lips started twitching and pressure built up in her stomach until she couldn't take it anymore and she burst into laughter as well.

**###**

"Where was it that you found the little guy?" Dr. Deaton asked as he turned the german shepherd puppy over in his hands. The little dog opened his mouth and tried to gnaw on his glove covered fingers. Chuckling, Dr. Deaton turned him around to look in its mouth.

"I was leaving home this morning and almost ran him over," Melanie replied, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder and tugged on the ends of her hair. "I think he just wandered into my yard. I almost didn't see him in time."

"It's a good thing you did. This little guy isn't that old, a couple months at the most," Dr. Deaton said as he continued looking the puppy over. "Doesn't seem to have any sort of trauma. He's a little malnourished, though. We would like to keep him here overnight just to be sure he gets the proper nutrients and then start to look for his owners."

"Okay, thank you," Melanie said with a nod. Dr. Deaton smiled, picked up the puppy, and then carried him into the back room. "Is it bad that I kinda don't want anyone to claim him?" she addressed Scott who had been sweeping dust off of the office floor.

"Nah, I feel the same way whenever I come in," he replied with a kind smile. "It's hard to see those cute little faces pressed up against the bars. The good thing is that most of them have owners so I don't get too attached."

"What about the ones that don't have owners?" she asked.

He hesitated, eyes briefly glancing at the floor before he spoke, "We have to take them to a shelter. And if no one gets them from there…they have to be put down." He sighed. "I'd adopt them all if I could but, you know Mom, she already has her hands full with me."

"Yeah, we don't need any more puppy eyes around us," Melanie joked, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He chuckled in a bashful manner and fixed his now mussed hair. A second later a thought occurred to her ad she said nonchalantly, "Oh, by the way, Allison asked me about you."

She watched in amusement as Scott nearly dropped the broom he had been holding. It took him a few tries to get it back in an upright position. Once it stood tall, he rested his body weight against it and peered at her. "She did?" he asked. "Wha-what did she say? Er, ask?"

Melanie pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. "All she asked was if I was friends with you," she replied. "See, it was before French class and after I told her that we were friendly she was going to ask or say something else but then class started and we never got a chance to talk after that. Sorry." Scott nodded his head and looked down at his hands. "Oh!" She slapped her palm against her forehead. "Also! Does Stiles have a girlfriend?" Erica had asked her to ask Stiles but asking _Scott_ was close enough, wasn't it? They were almost the same person, anyway.

Blinking at the sudden topic change, Scott slowly shook his head. "No, he's single," he replied. He paused, head tilting, and then asked, "Why? Do you like him? Do you want to go out with him?"

"What? Me? No!" Melanie replied, her eyes widening in horror. "No! I'm asking for a friend!"

"Is…is there really a friend?" he continued. "Because people say that all the time. That they're asking for a friend, when they're actually the friend they're asking for. Are _you_ the friend?"

"I'm not the friend, Scott," she said through clenched teeth. "I am just _asking_ for one."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands. "No need to get defensive about it."

She pushed a breath through her nose. The simple idea of her liking Stiles rubbed her the wrong way. For one thing, he was too sarcastic for his own good (and besides, she didn't catch onto it most of the time so she would spend too much time trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not and she didn't have time for that). And for another, he wasn't the one who shared his chocolate cupcake with her when she dropped hers on the floor in fourth grade. No, _he_ was the one who asked her if she had dropped hers and then painstakingly made a show of licking the icing off of his.

She still hadn't forgiven him for that.

"So, um…what do you think Allison was going to ask?" Scott asked, tapping his fingers against the broom handle again. "I mean, you're a girl—"

"Thanks for noticing," Melanie cut in, flashing him an endearing smile.

"—you can read each other's minds or something like that, right? Do you have an idea of what she was going to ask you?" The hopeful look in his dark eyes made her want to pinch his cheeks.

"If I had to take a guess?" She rubbed her chin while thinking. "Probably if you're into her." She rolled her eyes at the obvious answer she had to give. "Which she should be able to see a mile away with the way you've been looking at her, Smiley," she grunted at the smile that had blossomed over his face. "I mean, she keeps going to lacrosse practice to watch you."

"Well…she could be going to watch _you_," Scott countered. "With that whole girl on a boy's team thing."

"Oh no, trust me, it's you," she replied. "_Everyone_ has come to watch you. I mean, you've become a star player in one night. It's farfetched. You have to see it to believe it and people want to see it. What's your secret, McCall? You've been holding back on us all this time?"

He chuckled and scratched behind his ear. "No, um, it's just…a lot of practice. That's all."

"So how come Stiles still plays like…well, Stiles?"

"Because he's…Stiles?"

Somehow that made sense to her.

**###**

The warm bathwater lulled Melanie into a peaceful state once she was submerged. Her hair piled atop of her head, she sank as low into the water as possible, the water line resting right beneath her nose so it wavered and wobbled with every breath she blew out.

Her entire body felt weightless within in the water. She felt as if she was floating. With her eyes closed she let her mind drift far away, away from the pain that nagged in the back of her head, away from the worries and stress of the day, away from the muffled voices of her parents downstairs. She couldn't decipher if they were arguing or not but if they weren't she was sure an argument was going to start sometime soon.

Darkness seeped in as she closed her eyes and blew air out of her mouth, bubbles rising up to the surface. She sunk lower, her knees bending slightly to accommodate her whole body now under water. She could feel her beating heart slow in her chest. The previous need for oxygen had dissipated and she lay in comfortable silence.

Her eyes fluttered open and she spotted…seaweed? She opened her eyes fully and looked straight up. The end of a stalk of seaweed swayed to and fro and, high above her, the mottled rays of the sun wiggled up at the surface line,

If that hadn't surprised her before, looking down sure did. Gone were her legs and in place was a long, flowing tail. Blueish-purple scales covered the fin which bounced the sunlight off of it. Holding her hands out in front of her face she noticed that a thin web-like membrane stretched out between each finger. Her hands then flew to her neck where she felt two slits. Pressing down on them slightly she could feel water being sucked in. Her chest inflated as if she had taken a big gulp of fresh air and when she blew out bubbles streamed up to the surface.

What in the world was going on? She had been in her bathroom and now…where was she? She turned around so she was floating on her stomach and looked around at the vast waterscape. Finding nothing but the rolling waves high above her head she stretched her new muscles and gave her fin a good kick. It propelled her forward much faster than she expected, pushing her out at least ten feet in one kick.

Excitement running through her veins, she stretched her arms in front of her and slapped her fin through the water. The membrane between her fingers helped propel her forward through the water. A smile blossomed on her face as she passed by colorful reefs and seaweed and plant life. One thicket seemed to house a heard of the prettiest angelfish she had ever seen. She needed a closer look.

Shifting directions, she swam towards the angelfish heard, her hair billowing out behind her as if suspended in midair. Once she got close enough to the reef she floated above it, admiring the fish that swam around. Moving further down the reef, she began to get a closer look at the structure when something in the shadows beneath caught her eye. A red light? She tilted her head in curiosity and got closer. The red light split into two, almond-shaped glowing structures.

Eyes.

Melanie sucked in a breath to scream only to feel water rushing into her lungs. Her hands shot out and grabbed for anything as she struggled for air. Finally her fingertips scrambled against the smooth edges of the bathtub and she held on tight. Lifting herself up, her head broke through the surface of the water and she coughed and spluttered while trying to get air into her lungs. She brushed her wet hair out of her face and looked at her hands. They looked normal. Then she looked down to see her legs bent at the knees across the bottom of the tub. Her heart rammed against her chest and it lurched at the knocking on the door.

"Melanie? Are you okay in there?" Arabella called through the door.

"Y-yeah," Melanie called back. "Just fine. I'm getting out now."

"Okay. Dinner will be ready soon."

With shaky hands, Melanie reached over the edge of the tub and grabbed the towel that she had dropped on the floor nearby. She brushed the water off of her hands and then pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the tub to dry off her arms. Swinging her legs around, she placed her feet on the mat and began to dry them when the towel snagged. Eyebrows crinkling, Melanie moved the towel to see what it was that had caused the snag.

Scales lined the top of her legs.

She rubbed at her eyes with her thumbs and looked again. Smooth skin stared back at her. Sighing heavily, she ran a hand through her wet hair. Maybe she had gotten hit harder than she thought at practice. That was the only solution to this insanity.

**###**

_**a/n**_ - So what do you think is going on with Melanie? And what about her dream? Or was it a dream? Please let me know what you think and thank you so much to those who have reviewed and faved and alerted this story. I'm glad to see that you all are enjoying it! Please leave a review!


	4. No Air

**Chapter 4: No Air**

The week flew by in a blur and the next thing they knew it was Friday. It was finally the beginning of the weekend, the end of the school week, the day of Lydia's big party, and, more importantly, the day of the big lacrosse scrimmage to find out who was going to make first line. The whole school had been abuzz about the day since Scott's big transformation into a lacrosse playing machine. Everyone except Erica, anyway, who was still curled up in bed that morning when Melanie called to let her know that she was on her way to pick her up.

"Don't bother," Erica said into her cell phone receiver. Her head was tilted to hold it against her shoulder as she used her free hands to stroke the fur of her snow white cat. "I'm not going today."

"What, why!? Eri, I need you in the stands cheering me on!"

"I can cheer you on from here," she said. "I'm not feeling well today."

"_Eri._" Erica could hear the prying tone that Melanie was trying to use on her. It used to work but not this time. Erica was standing her ground. She just didn't feel up to going to school that day, what was wrong with that? Her mother understood that she need a Me Day sometimes, why couldn't her best friend? "Please. Please, please, please, please come today!"

"I'll just see you tomorrow or something, okay?" Erica replied. "Hey, text me if you make the team. I'll make jersey cookies."

"Hey, are you okay?" Melanie asked, all traces of suspicion now replaced with concern. "I can drop by during lunch?"

"No, no, it's fine. I just need a break," Erica replied. "Really. You go and have a good day and we can talk later." She removed her phone from her ear and jabbed the end call button before Melanie could protest. She tossed it away right as her mother barged into the room. "Ever ear of knocking?" Erica grumbled.

"It's my house, knocking is optional," Mrs. Reyes replied. She sat on the edge of her bed and pushed Erica's hair off her face to press a kiss to her forehead. "I might be home late tonight; I have a few surgeries lined up." Mrs. Reyes works as an Ophthalmologist; while she primarily dealt with eyeglass and contact lenses fittings she also performed corrective surgery when the moment arises. "Do you want me to bring anything back?"

"No, I'll just order in," Erica replied. "Melanie might come over later if that's okay."

"Sure! I'll leave you two money if you want a pizza," Mrs. Reyes said. "Have a good day, sweetie." She patted Erica's shoulder and started to leave the room only to stop and point at the medicine bottle on her nightstand. "Don't forget to take your medicine."

Erica rolled her eyes. "I never forget, Mom. See?" She made a show of popping the cap, dispensing one medicine pill into her palm, and then popped it into her mouth to swallow. She then tilted her head back and stuck out her tongue as her mother removed a mini flashlight from her pocket to check. "All gone," she stated, not bothering to hide her annoyance over the fact that her mother still needed to check on her. "You can go now."

"Okay, okay, I get the hint." Mrs. Reyes put the flashlight back into her pocket. "I'll call in sometime later."

"Okay, bye." Erica waved her hand to signal for her mom to leave. Once her bedroom door closed she rolled off her bed and went to the window. She watched her mother get into her car, back out of the driveway, and drive down the street. Erica counted to ten before she rushed to the bathroom.

Dropping to her knees by the toilet, she lifted the lid and gathered her hair back into a ponytail. Draping it over one side, she stuck her head over the toilet bowl and shoved two fingers down her throat. Almost instantly her stomach clenched and a gagging sound squeeze out past her fingers. She removed her fingers and stuck her head further in the bowl. The sound of her retching bounced around the porcelain. She gasped for air, gagged again, and then felt her previously eaten food expel past her lips and into the toilet. She gripped the cool toilet rim with slightly sticky fingers and held her head in place until her stomach stopped convulsing.

Lifting her head, she wiped the dangling string of saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand. She slowly got to her feet and made her way to the sink. Grimacing at the small chunks coating her tongue, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed away as much as she could. After she spat the excess toothpaste into the toilet she wiped her mouth with a nearby hand towel and then dug around in the top drawer. She successfully found the tape measure she had been looking for.

Erica then stepped on the scale in the corner of the bathroom as she lifted her shirt halfway. Keeping the tip of the measuring tape against her bellybutton she wrapped the rest of it around her back and the other side of her stomach, pulling it as tight as possible with breathing room. She glanced down at the numbers on the scale—which read 136—and then at the tape measure around her stomach. No change.

Growling in frustration, she tossed the measuring tape away. It smacked against the mirror and bounced around until it landed in the sink. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror and she felt her stomach turn from the sight alone. Her mother used to say that high school was supposed to be a transforming experience. And yet here she was, a caterpillar stuck in a world of butterflies.

**###**

Melanie was bored. She was _dreadfully_ bored. Without Erica around she felt as if she were lost in the middle of the woods with no idea of which way to go. So she tried every direction she could think of.

She tried talking to Allison before classes started but found herself zoning out not only a sentence in since the only thing she spoke about was how Scott had asked her to Lydia's party and how they bonded over an injured puppy. Melanie didn't need to hear how amazing Scott was, she already had a firsthand experience with that. On the flip side, asking Scott about the german shepherd puppy she had dropped off garnered the same reaction, only he couldn't stop talking about their date and how _she_ wanted to go on a date with _him_. Barf. She wasn't anywhere near a good enough mood to deal with Lydia and Jackson putting her down for the sake of someone to talk to. There was Isaac but after sitting on him and making a fool of herself she didn't trust herself or her lack of awareness for that to not happen again. So that left only one person.

"Hey Stiles," Melanie greeted him as she dropped down in the seat next to him in the library. He had a pile of books surrounding him and his nose was shoved deep within the pages of one. She frowned when she noticed that he didn't tear his eyes away from the book. "Stiles," she repeated, poking him in the arm. He left go of the book and waved her away, still not taking his eyes off the page. Quirking and eyebrow, she leaned over until her chin rested on his shoulder so she could see what it was that had his attention. _Werewolves?_ Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes shifted back and forth between his face and the book. Huffing, she leaned even closer until her mouth hovered by his ear and then she howled.

"Gah! Geeze, Mel!" Stiles yelled, jerking away from her. She laughed as he wiggled his finger in his ear. Other occupants of the library aimed hissing shushes their way. Melanie got comfortable in her seat as Stiles glared. "Next time try the bat signal. It'll get my attention a lot faster," he muttered sarcastically.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," she said as she began to search it on her phone, the tone of his comment flying over her head. "D'you know anywhere that sells them? Preferably on the cheap side?" Looking up from the screen, she noticed him staring pointedly at her. Her shoulders raised in a silent question and he rolled his eyes.

"Sarcasm, Mels, sarcasm," he sighed.

"Ah." She exited the web app that had popped up and then put her phone away. "So are you done with my books yet or do you still need them?"

"No I – ah – I still need them. Doing some research for a, uh, a class! For a project! A project for a class, yeah. Y'know, a…creative sort of thing," he said, scratching behind his ear.

"Like creative…_writing_?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Yeah, like that!"

"And it's on werewolves?"

"Yeah! It's, y'know, good source material. Everyone likes movies about werewolves. They're the scariest monsters, right? Lots of information on them and stuff. There's…history too, y'know." He closed the book and propped his elbow up on it. "Lacrosse! Let's talk about lacrosse. Are you excited for today?"

"Is it bad if I say I'd be excited if Scott somehow broke his leg before the scrimmage?" she asked wile slumping in her seat. He stared at her. "It's not that I don't want him to make first line, it's just…he's so _good_. He's bound to get it for sure. That's one spot gone. What about the rest of us?"

"We'll just have to try harder," Stiles replied. "Besides, I think we have an in. Coach isn't very fond of Greenberg so I don't think he'd want to deal with him that much."

Melanie held up a finger, indicating that he had made a good point. "True." She grabbed her phone to check if Erica had responded to her text yet but she found her inbox empty. She must be napping. She had been replacing her phone in her pocket when a movement by the door made her take pause and then inhale a sharp breath.

"What? What? Is it Lydia? Is she wearing that cute little mini skirt?" Stiles asked, sitting straight up to see what it was that made her gasp.

"No! Even worse!" Melanie grabbed the book he had been reading and opened it wide, propping it up on the table so she could hide behind it.

"Lydia in a—"

"This isn't about Lydia!" She grabbed onto Stiles's shoulder and pulled him down so he was hidden behind the book as well.

"Then what's the problem?"

"_That_!" Melanie pointed over the top of the book to where Isaac was putting some books on the return cart.

"Isaac?" Stiles made a face. "I don't get it."

"I might have…accidentally…sat on him," Melanie mumbled, her cheeks flushing as she relived the memory in his mind.

"Ah, yeah, well, that makes sense. Y'know since his lap looks…very inviting and all. You know, I would even want to take a turn. If it were Christmas."

"Shut up, Piles. God! Can you not be sarcastic for one second?"

He rested his cheek upon his palm. "I could but I think it would kill me," he replied. Somehow she knew he was being honest. "Hey, you caught on that time."

"Don't be proud of me, I took a guess," she replied. "That inviting lap comment was a bit of an indicator."

"Hey! He does have a nice looking lap area." His comment hung in the air as she sat up taller, her eyes narrowing. He smirked and licked his lower lip. "Apparently you think so too."

"What? No! Look!" she replied, pointing again. As she pointed Isaac had lifted his head from a book he was reading in an aisle. He closed it with a pinch of his hands and then turned to return it to a shelf. This angle gave them a good view of the cut on his left cheek. "Where'd he get that?"

"Uh, he plays lacrosse," Stiles pointed out. "It's not exactly a knitting circle."

"A blow to the helmet can't do that," Melanie replied. "It's cushioned for a reason." She shrieked and ducked her head again when Isaac looked around the library. "Okay, I gotta go," she said, hastily slamming the book shut and began to gather her things.

"Wait! I still need that book!" Stiles said, grabbing onto the other end of the book.

She pulled on it. "I need cover!"

He pulled back. "I need information!"

"Stiles, let go!"

"_You_ let go!"

Their little battle of tug of war ended when Scott burst into the library yelling that he needed to talk to Stiles, only to be shushed by others. His appearance startled her to the point that she let go of the book, causing Stiles to stumble and his chair to almost fall over but he grabbed onto the table and held on for dear life.

"Sorry, it's an emergency," Scott said to Melanie. "It's a, uh, a guy thing." Adding in for good measure and to make sure she offended he added, "Good luck at practice today!"

"Thanks. I'd say the same to you but I don't think you'd need it. You're a shoo-in. But good luck to you, Stiles!" She gathered her things, fluttered her fingers to wave goodbye, and snuck out of the library once Isaac's back was turned. Her lips fluttered with the sigh she breathed once out in the hall. Now who was she going to talk to? Her shoulders slumped. She wished she had convinced Erica to come to school that day, her stomach was twisted in a tight knot that only she would be able to work out with her encouragement.

She turned the nearest corner and made a beeline for the door. She had a call to place.

**###**

"What. The. Hell. Am. I. _Doing_?" Melanie muttered under her breath. Her hands were wringing against the cool metal shaft while her knees knocked together. She ran her tongue across her cold lips as she watched the other guys on the team jogging around the field, tossing the ball back and forth, ramming into each other to test defensive tactics, dodged and weaved, anything to get ready for the scrimmage that was to decide their fate. Practice all week was leading up to this moment and now they would have an audience? May as well shove her out in the middle of the field while they play her childhood videos on a constant loop.

She blew out a breath and shook out a hand, trying to remember what it was that Erica had said to her when she called. That she was rough, she was tough, and that she could do it. Yeah, she _could_ if she wasn't so terrified of having a permanent cleat mark on her face.

_It's okay, it's okay, you can do this. Just…pretend it's another practice. I mean, it is one, but try not to think of the stakes at hand. And try not to worry about Jackson willing to crush you to get to the goal. Or Coach Finstock watching you like a hawk. Or all the girls putting weight on your shoulders. Or—_

Her train of thought broke when she felt a nudge on her arm. Blinking, she turned her attention to Scott who smiled up at her as he dug through his bag. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Melanie replied. "How're you doing under the pressure of your adoring fans?" She motioned to the students gathered around the bleachers behind them.

He shook his head. "It's…crazy," he muttered. "I just hope I don't embarrass myself."

"You'll be fine. Stiles and I have your back." She tugged at the red jersey she was wearing for emphasis of her point. The team was split down the middle for the scrimmage that day, half of them were wearing red jerseys and half of them were wearing black. They would be swapped in and out of position to see where they fit and if they played well they would be selected for a position on first line. In a perfect world she would play an attack position, preferably on the right side, but a midfield position would work for her as well.

As if he had heard his name being mentioned, Stiles came running over to Scott, screeching his name in a high pitched voice along the way.

"Stiles, I'm playing the first elimination. Can it wait?" Scott asked amidst Stiles's frantic movements.

"Just hold on, okay," Stiles replied, bending over at the waist to gasp for air. "I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hairs from the body in the woods!"

"Wait, you two went in search for that dead body?" Melanie demanded, cutting in. Stiles glanced at her. A moment later a thought occurred to her and she turned to Scott. "Was _that _why you never came over to help me out?"

"Look, guys, I gotta go," Scott said, grabbing his gear. Stiles tried to stop him but his pleas for Scott to listen fell on deaf ears. Melanie strained to hear what it was that he was talking about but Coach Finstock's whistles stopped that from happening. Grabbing her helmet, she jogged out onto the field with the rest of the boys, standing near the edge of the semi-circle they made around the coach.

He went on to fire up the team with a somewhat motivational speech about the realities of the practice which ended on the note of it all being "cream cheese" or whatever. Either way, the team was riled up and pumped and ready to go. Anyone within the vicinity of the field could feel it. It made blood rush in Melanie's ears and her heart thump in her chest in anticipation.

She, Stiles, and Isaac were benched at first with a few of the other players as the scrimmage started. Jackson was on the black jersey team and facing off against Scott and the red jersey team. The tension in the air was thick and nothing had even happened yet. Melanie pressed her palms together and held them against her mouth, one foot bounced rapidly on the ground as Jackson and some other player crouched near the ball. The whistle blew.

The scrimmage was on.

The ball was flung back and forth as the players ran around the field trying to score and block scoring. Twenty minutes went by and Jackson had managed to score four goals in that time. People were swapped in and out of positions but Jackson stayed on the field for the most part, Scott too. At one point he had the ball passed to him but he was knocked down by Jackson, causing the spectators on the stand to groan.

"Come on, come on, get up," Stiles muttered as he watched intently. Melanie was biting her thumbnail at this point, her foot still bouncing on the ground. Her anxiety rose and fell along the crowd as they watched but she couldn't place who it was for, herself or Scott. Maybe his new power was a fluke? Maybe he was still the asthmatic boy who could get crushed by a good blow and wouldn't get back up?

At the brief blow of a whistle Jackson and Scott now lined up at the center circle, crouching low, and their sticks on the ground. Everyone in the audience seemed to be holding their breaths, Melanie included. She could almost feel the intensity in the glare that Jackson was throwing Scott's way.

"Oh god, I can't watch!" she exclaimed while grabbing onto the hands on either side of her, one was Stiles's and the other Isaac's. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the whistle to blow, signaling the play. At the sound she squeezed their hands tight and waited for a reaction, one way or another, that would indicate their fate.

A few murmurs went through the crowd followed by a few gasps and exclamations of awe but even though that torture she didn't open her eyes. It wasn't until a loud cheer went through the stands grabbed her attention enough that she cracked one eye open to see Scott and other members of the red team jumping up and down. Next to her Stiles appeared stunned.

"Scott made the shot," Isaac told her, as if reading the unanswered question on her mind.

"Oh!" she said and then added in a delayed "yay!" amidst Coach yelling for Scott to get off the field. Her smile quickly faded as did the one on Scott's face as he jogged over to the coach to see what it was that he wanted. She leaned forward on the bench, straining to hear what it was that he was chastising Scott for. It wasn't until people around her stood up to cheer and she heard someone call out "first line" that it hit her that Scott had made it. Scott made first line! Letting go of Stiles's and Isaac's limp hands she jumped up and screamed her support but she couldn't help but notice that Stiles didn't seem as excited about the news.

A ref blew a whistle signaling halftime and the players gathered around on the benches, squirting water into their mouths from their water bottles and fixing their hair which was matted with sweat just in case someone was looking at them. Melanie half listened to whatever speech Coach was going through as she dug into the bag of orange slices that was going around. She couldn't warm a bench on an empty stomach after all!

Her face scrunched up as she tried to gnaw a piece of orange off of its rind, Stiles's hissing whispers to Scott floating through one ear and out the other. But that all turned to quiet background noise as she zoned out, focusing on her snack. A shrill whistle in her ear made her mind come slamming back to the present and she blinked to see Coach's face close to hers.

"_Aaaah!_" she screamed, leaping onto the nearest person to her which, with her luck, was Isaac. Again. "Sorry! Sorry!" she squeaked, scrambling off his lap to reclaim her seat on the bench amidst the laughter of all those around her.

"Crowe! Get your ass out of la la land! I don't want daydreamers on this team!" Coach yelled in her face. "Now, if you would like to rejoin us on Planet Earth, you're going in next half. Unless you want to sleep through that!"

"No coach," Melanie replied, lifting her hand to salute him. He held her gaze for a moment, giving her a pointed look, and then turned away. She sighed, her shoulder slumping as she rubbed a gloved hand over her face. Then her body stiffened as his words registered in her mind. "Wait, what!? I'm going in? I'm playing?" She grabbed onto Stiles's shoulder pads and shook him. "I'm playing!" A second later her smile fell off her face and she held her head in her hands. "Oh my god, I'm gonna die."

"No, no one's dying out there today," he replied, patting her on the back. "Jackson will be off the field. So the only one you'll have to worry about is…him." He lifted his chin right as Isaac got off the bench and walked by them; his stick and helmet in hand. "Maybe he'll go easy on you. I mean, after all, you are, ahem, _seat mates_." He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing aloud but a snorting sound managed to make it through.

"_Shut up, Piles_," she growled through clenched teeth. Reaching behind the bench she dug around in her bag for her mp3 player. Choosing a song from her _Pump Up Playlist _she placed her headphones over her ears and closed her eyes to allow the song to put her into the zone she needed to focus. The music did its job, pumping up her spirits and getting her psyched that by the time the whistle was blown again for the second half of the scrimmage she was up and ready to go. After making a deal with Stiles to help each other out, she made sure her gear was on properly and then took the field.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest and seemed to echo in her ears as she took her place on the left front side of the field. The two center attackers crouched at the center line, waiting for the whistle. She looked over their heads to where Stiles was standing. He looked as if he were about to puke, his lips were pressed together so hard. She wondered if she looked the same. He lifted his hand, pointed two of his fingers at his eyes and then pointed at her. She returned the gesture and added a thumbs up at the end.

Her muscles tensed. She tightened her grip on the shaft of her crosse. The whistle blew. Time seemed to slow down. Everyone moved slowly. She could see the two boys wrestling over the ball for a moment before someone on their team grabbed it. She ran forward, getting herself into an empty spot. She watched as the ball was cradled and ran around one opponent before it was passed off to Stiles. He had only taken a few steps forward when he was knocked over, earning a groan from the crowd. Thankfully he popped right back up and slapped the side of his helmet as if he was punishing himself.

The center attacker got the ball again, tried to run around the player that stayed glued to his side, and then paused, looking around. Melanie held her breath. She could see the shift of his weight before he threw the ball at her. Reaching out, she extended her stick and caught the ball. Turning, she managed to dodge the tank that charged towards her and ran towards the goal. She skidded to a stop to keep from colliding with another player and tossed the ball over to Stiles. He caught it and tried to move past the defenders that blocked him.

Melanie weaved between a few defenders that left a spot open and called out, "Stiles! Over here!" He turned his head and threw the ball. She ducked low to catch it before she hit the ground and turned to make the shot. Gripping the bottom shaft of the lacrosse stick, she pushed the top forward with her dominant hand, aiming for an empty space of the goal.

Her arcing movement was cut short when she felt a hard hid on her side. Her feet left the ground at the point of impact and she found herself flying through the air. It felt like an eternity before she hit the ground hard on her back. All breath that was in her flew out past her teeth in one quick _woosh_.

She stared up at the bright blue sky, struggling to breathe but her lungs didn't work with her. Panic began to creep in as she tried to pull in air. What if she passed out? What if she never breathed again? What if she just died right then and there? Was it possible to predict her own death?

"Mel! Mel!"

The voices of those calling her name were muffled. The next thing she knew she was being tugged up into a sitting position and her helmet was being pulled off her head.

"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" Stiles asked, holding her up by the arm. She shook her head and gestured at her neck, all the while still trying to breathe. "You broke your neck!?" he cried out.

"No, I think she just got the wind knocked out of her," Scott replied, somewhere above her.

Melanie tapped her nose, miming that he was right.

"So just take a breath." She shot him a withering look. As if she hadn't thought of that or wasn't trying for that matter. She didn't fancy the idea of dying on the lacrosse field due to the lack of oxygen. "Oh, right, okay. Bad suggestion."

"Let's get her up," Scott said.

The two hauled her up to her feet where she wobbled for a few seconds but managed to get her balance back. Applause went through the crowds as she brought a hand up to her head. She noticed everyone staring at her and then saw the figure of Coach pushing his way through the once kneeling players.

"Crowe! This isn't some play! There's no need for the theatrics!" he yelled.

"Coach, she got hit hard!" Scott protested. "The wind got knocked out of her."

"Boo hoo, she didn't break anything." Crouching down, hands resting on his knees, he looked in Melanie's eyes. "Do you want to get off the field, Crowe?"

Melanie sucked in a large, audible breath. She took in another one, let that go, and then shook her head. She wasn't going to quit, not after all this time. "No," she replied firmly. "No, I don't want to get off the field, Coach. I want to play."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked. "You just took a hard hit—"

"And I'm fine. So I can take on another one. And another one. As many as it takes until I make this team." Wrenching her helmet out of Stiles's free hand she shoved it down on her head. "I'm playing, Coach," she told him. He ran a hand through his wild hair and walked back over to the sidelines. Turning to Scott she asked, "Now, are you going to stand in my way or are you going to let me play? Choose wisely, McCall." He held up his hands, as if to block her words, and then moved aside for her. "_Thank you_," she said sternly and grabbed at her fallen stick.

A few seconds ago, truthfully, she had considered just giving up. She was crazy to think that she could play on a boy's team but the sound of laughter was what made her change her mind right back. Someone _laughing_ at her injury. But not just somebody, it was the distinct sound of _Jackson Whittemore_ laughing at her. She would not just let that go.

She rolled her neck and kicked out her legs, getting her muscles ready for another hard few minutes of play. Could be a few seconds for all she knew but she was going to make them count. Once she lifted her eyes from the ground they rested on Isaac who looked back at her. She lifted her chin and held his gaze as if daring him to speak. But instead his body shook with a short breath-like laugh that he pushed through his nose as his mouth pulled back at the corner. Her lips twitched until her own mouth mimicked his smile.

Breaking their stare, she let her eyes drop down to the ball that had been rolled over to her. Scooping it up, her focus shifted back to dodging the players that came running at her.

She had a position to lockdown.

* * *

><p><em>an_ - Did she make the team? Did she fail? Gonna have to wait until next chapter to find out! Please leave a review.


	5. Cold Comfort

**Chapter 5: Cold Comfort**

"Oh my god, you should have seen Jackson's face when I got that goal past him!" Melanie gushed as she held a shirt in front of her. Scrunching up her face, she tossed it aside and picked up another from the large pile on the chair near the mirror. "It was the funniest thing I've ever seen! Like he had gotten slapped in the face."

"He may as well have been," Erica commented from the bed. She held her cat on her lap and was stroking her hair, a small smile on her face. "I can't believe you made the team!"

"Only second line," Melanie sighed, tossing another shirt aside. "I'll be riding the bench all season."

"Second line's better than nothing, right?"

"Right." She winked at Erica's reflection in the mirror. She couldn't stop smiling about the news despite how much she tried to downplay it by bringing up the fact that she was placed on second line. She was on the lacrosse team! She had made the lacrosse team! She was an official Cyclone! Now to celebrate the news, she was getting ready for Lydia's after party which the entire team had been invited to attend.

"How'd your mom and dad take it?" Erica asked.

"They were happy," Melanie replied. "Dad was ecstatic of course, wanted to take me out for dinner but I convinced him and Mom to go by themselves. They could use time alone and I wanted to sleep over with my best friend in the entire world who _should_ be coming to this party with me." Lifting her eyebrows and smiling wide, she wiggled the shirt that she was holding as if it was going to entice Erica to go.

Erica blew out a breath and shook her head. "I already told you, I'm not going. Lydia wouldn't even want me there."

"Lydia wouldn't even _notice_ you're there," Melanie pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's the problem. No one would notice. No one ever notices."

Huffing, Melanie sat down on the edge of Erica's bed and took her hand. "_I_ would notice," she said gently. "And I _do_ notice. I want you there to experience things with me. I missed you all day."

Erica snorted. "I could tell. You blew up my phone."

"Whose fault is that? Your's. Because you weren't there." She leaned forward and flicked Erica's nose. Erica playfully bit her finger. "Eri, please. It's just one night of fun. Look, Stiles is picking me up and we're going together. He has room in his jeep, you can come too."

Erica tried to hide it but Melanie saw her perk up at the mention of Stiles's name. The light that had been gone from her eyes reappeared and looked as if she was mulling it over. But then, it faded again, she shook her head, and leaned back against her pillows. "No, I'll just stay here." She tugged at a loose thread on the hem of her oversized t-shirt. "Tell me everything that happens."

"I don't want you sitting alone all by yourself," Melanie stated.

Erica shrugged. "Nothing new, I'm used to it."

"Erica."

"Mel, you are on the boys' lacrosse team. You're a good player and you're only going to get better. You'll be pushed into the spotlight and me? I'll just be your dorky, overweight, acne-ridden friend who watches from the sidelines." Melanie opened her mouth to protest but Erica held up her hand to stop her. "Maybe that's how things are supposed to be. You know I'll always be your number one fan. You're destined or greatness and I'm destined to run your fan club."

"Erica—"

"Let me help you find something," she said, bouncing off the bed. Her cat, not liking being suddenly tossed aside, dropped to the floor and stalked out of the room. She bounded over to her closet and started pushing clothes aside on the hanger. Melanie abandoned the pile of clothes on the chair and joined her at the closet, hovering as Erica yanked something off of the hanger. "This is cute. It'll look good on you," she said as she held out a dark floral print romper to Melanie.

"Err…" Melanie said, holding the romper up in front of her. "Eri, you're taller than me. Won't this be a bit…short?" She was sure her ass was going to be hanging out the back of it.

"I can fix that." Pushing aside more hangers, she pulled down a gray hooded cardigan and then handed that over to Melanie. "Wait! Add in…this belt and…oh! These boots." She gave Melanie the accessories and then paused while rubbing her chin. Snapping her fingers, she then went to her jewelry box and dug around until she pulled out a yin-yang pendant on the end of a black cord necklace. "Cute but casual. It screams you _and_ it's much better than your constant t-shirt and jeans."

Melanie stuck her tongue out at Erica before heading to her private bathroom to change. She liked her band shirts and jeans, thank you very much. As she looked over the clothes that Erica had lent her she couldn't help but notice how well everything seemed to go together. If it was that simple for her why didn't she dress in it all the time instead of going for something unflattering to her body? She didn't have time to entertain the thought further as she heard the distinct sound of Stiles's honking jeep.

**# # #**

By the time they made it to the party it was already in full swing. Guests were dancing on the space by the pool, arms up in the air, red solo cups clutched in their hands in time with the pop music that poured out of the speakers. Strings of light connected between the main house and the pool house. Inside guests were eating snacks and mingling about, the main topic of conversation being the scrimmage that day. A few guests were making out in corners on and on chairs in plain view but no one bothered them as they went about their business.

As soon as Stiles and Melanie arrived he set about looking for Lydia, hoping to catch a glimpse of her and maybe even thank her for inviting him. But that plan of action failed as soon as he saw her attached to Jackson's side so he turned his attention to mingling with other lacrosse players and talking about their upcoming season.

Melanie didn't mind continuing the conversation; she was excited to be a part of it. Tingles still shot over her body whenever she thought of being an official Cyclone athlete. She didn't want the feeling to go away anytime soon.

Sometime later a ripple went through the crowd to let some people pass and go out to the pool/dance area. Part of the group were Scott and Allison, both of whom looked as if they had just been struck by Cupid's arrow, shooting nervous smiles back and forth at one another. Heck, it was obvious they only had eyes for each other at that point. They were way beyond smitten.

"Dang, she looks good," a random boy commented, his eyes glued to Allison as she led Scott to the dance floor. "McCall's one lucky bastard. What does she see in him anyway?"

Melanie pursed her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced at them. What _didn't_ she see would be a better question. Anyone who knew Scott could easily say he was the sweetest, nicest boy on the planet. And obviously Allison figured that one out. Making a face, Melanie turned away from the sight before the festering angry twist in her stomach got worse.

She sipped on her can of soda throughout the night as people started to fall over due to being tipsy or flat-out drunk. A game started amongst the small talking group about who would be the next to fall over or who would puke first. Their bet was on Greenburg but when Scott rushed by them their guess changed to him.

"Whoa, Scott, you good?" Stiles called out, trying to reach his friend. But Scott kept going, his face scrunched up in pain. "Ah, Mels, can you go check on Allison while I deal with Scott?"

"I guess, but—"

"Thanks!"

Melanie sighed when Stiles pushed his way through the crowd. She put her soda can down and started pushing her own way through when Allison came through on the other side, chasing after Scott. Stopping on a dime, Melanie shifted her weight and followed after Allison, calling out her name but the girl seemed to be on a mission to get out. She was already down on the sidewalk in front of the house when Scott drove away once Melanie burst through the front door.

She had begun to turn around to go back inside when some guy in a leather jacket approached her. Eyebrows furrowing, she watched as he spoke to her. Something about him felt off. Allison must have thought so too with the way she was tucking her hair behind her ear and shifting her weight. Digging into her pocket, Melanie pulled out her cell phone and used her finger and thumb to zoom in the camera to take a picture of him. The guy in the leather jacket tilted his head and Allison followed him.

Melanie turned back into the house, squeezing through any available space she could find. She had to find Stiles. She checked random rooms before going out the back and found him sprinting towards the back gate.

"Stiles! Stiles, wait!" she called out.

He planted his feet on the ground a couple of times to slow his movements as he looked over his shoulders. "Mel, what? I have to go after Scott!" he yelled back.

"It's Allison," she replied, waving her phone around and beckoning him to get closer. "If you find Scott tell him that this guy took her home. So he doesn't worry." She showed him the photo that he took.

"Right. Okay, got it. I gotta go!" he said and started to run again.

Melanie put her phone away when a thought occurred to her. "But, wait! Stiles! You're my ride!"

"I know!" he called back. "I'm sorry, this is an emergency! Find someone else!"

Melanie tossed one arm into the air and let it fall against her side. She shook her head. Unbelievable! Rolling her eyes, she walked around the side of the pool and tried to get through the dancing crowd to look for someone to drive her home. Instead she ended up coming face to face with Jackson who grabbed her shoulder and turned her back around.

"Uhm, is there a problem?" she asked, trying to get out of his grasp but he held on tight.

"Just one," he replied, shaking her shoulder.

"And I'm guessing…it's me?" she said.

"Bingo." A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could tell by the shape of it that he was clenching his teeth. "Look, I'm sure everyone thought it was cute that you wanted to try out for the lacrosse team. Power to the girls and shit like that."

"Well, really, I have a big interest in the sport and—"

"Shut up," Jackson hissed, interrupting her. She nodded and pressed her lips together. "For some unfathomable reason—maybe it was luck—"

"—or skill—" she interjected but he kept going as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"—or pity, whatever it was you're on the team now. You must be so proud of yourself. But let's just get this one thing straight, if for whatever reason you actually set foot on that field you better bring it. Or I swear to god if you ruin our chances of being state champs you will regret it." The longer he spoke the more pressure he put onto her shoulder until she swore she heard her bones beneath her skin creak. "Clear?"

"Crystal," she replied, her voice strained. She let out a noise of relief once he let go of her shoulder and slipped into the crowd. She rubbed her aching shoulder and made a face at Jackson's retreating back. That would most likely leave a bruise. Or maybe that was his plan; injure her before she could do anything. But then she snorted. He wasn't smart enough for that.

"Watch it."

A couple rushed by on her left side, holding hands and giggling, most likely trying to find a place to get some privacy. In her haste to get out of their way she tripped over her feet. Her breath caught in her throat as her world turned and she headed straight for the pool. With nothing nearby to grab onto, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate. Her body smacked against the water and her clothes, now waterlogged, dragged her down. Briefly touching down on the bottom of the pool she pushed off and her head broke the surface. Spluttering, she ran her hand over her face to brush the chlorine water out of her eyes. Then the laughter around her filtered in.

Looking around, her stomach dropped at the sight of the pointing fingers and the sound of camera phone shutters going off. Her cheeks burned and her eyes quickly followed. But it wasn't from the chlorine; she wished it were that simple. Her lower lip began to tremble as she waded her way to the edge of pool. She could blame it on the cold air that made gooseflesh arise on her skin but then, deep down, it was hard to fight against the lump that was rising in her throat.

Her mind screamed at her to ask for a towel but her heart and the embarrassment that coursed through her body made her start running as soon as she was out of the pool. It was stupid of her to come. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy to just fit right in with _that_ group. It was stupid of her to trade in a night with her best friend to experience something new only to be ditched and manhandled and laughed at. And now she was freezing trying to run back to her friend's house with a fried phone in her pocket. Things couldn't get any worse!

Melanie jumped at the sound of squeaking metal and rubber sliding against gravel. She whipped around to see what it was that made the noise and her heart sank even further when she recognized the bike rider was Isaac. _Of course!_ As he placed his feet on the ground to steady himself and the bike she used a damp sleeve to brush any tears off of her reddened eyes.

"Melanie? Is that you?" he asked.

"A w-water-logged v-v-version, yeah," she replied, sniffing.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"P-party mishap. 'M t-trying t-to get to a f-f-friend's h-house."

He frowned. "On foot?"

"M-my ride k-kinda left without m-me. There was an e-emergency." At this point her entire body trembled due to still being wet in the cold January night. Her chattering teeth were audible in the still night. "W-would have called for a ride b-but my ph-phone's fried." Not to mention she didn't want to show her face at that party any longer. "Wh-what are you d-d-doing here?"

"I just, ah, needed some fresh air," he replied. He peered at her a moment longer before reaching back and tugging on the hood of his sweatshirt. Once he pulled his arms free from the fabric he held it out to her. "Here. It's…it's really cold tonight."

She hesitated. "What about you?" she asked, nodding to his white t-shirt.

"You need it more than I do," he said, nodding his head at her. Her body shook with a sudden jolt of realization. There she was standing in not only wet clothes but super _short_ wet clothes. She'd be crazy not to take his offer now. With reddened cheeks, she muttered a shaky 'thanks' and tugged the still warm sweatshirt down over her head, covering up the clothes that now clung to her like a second skin due to the water contained within it. The sweatshirt fell down to her knees, it was so large, and she couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she probably looked.

"Thanks Isaac," she said, brushing her wet stringy hair behind her ear. Now her breaths started to appear in front of her face. "I'll gi-give it back at s-s-school. I'll w-w-wash it. Well…ssssssee ya." She waved, the flapping end of the sweatshirt that hung over her hand.

"Wait." Isaac wheeled the bike forward with his feet. "I, uh, I can ride you." Catching his mistake—although Melanie didn't notice it—he shook his head and corrected himself, "I mean, I can give you a ride. To, uh, to my place. You can dry off and we can call someone to get you. You shouldn't be walking in the cold."

She shook her head. "I w-wouldn't want t-t-to impose."

"You wouldn't be. Really."

Nodding, she approached his bike. Deciding to use his body as a shield from the air, she settled herself down on the center of the handlebars and held on tight, lifting her feet to rest on the spokes that poked out of the sides of the front wheel. Leaning back, she settled against his chest, sighing at the feeling of the warmth radiating off his body.

He cleared his throat and, after making sure she was balanced and holding on tightly, pushed off the ground and started pedaling. He went fast enough so they made good time but slow enough so that she wouldn't bounce off in case he rolled over a rock or accidentally ran over a curb. Thankfully he didn't live too far away from Lydia's neighborhood. He rolled up into his driveway fifteen minutes later, slightly out of breath.

"Are you s-sure I'm not imposing?" Melanie asked, jumping down from the bike.

"You're not," Isaac replied, leaning over to put down the kickstand. "My dad's at work and he won't be home for a while." He dug into his pocket and retrieved his keys all the while Melanie bit her thumbnail. She was about to go into a house of the son of a graveyard worker who wasn't home at the moment. For all she knew he was a serial killer and here she was walking right into his potential trap. The sound of the door unlocking made her mind focus on the present and allow her legs to inch her way inside.

"So, um, you can take a shower. Get out of those wet clothes," he continued as he dropped his keys in a nearby bowl. "I can get you some spare and then you can call whoever it is you need."

"Yeahh," Melanie said slowly, her arms still wrapped around herself. "I need a bra."

Isaac's facial muscles twitched which was quickly followed by a strange choking noise that sounded in his throat. She gave him a look and he rubbed his fingers across his lips. The combination of his wide blue eyes and slightly panicked expression on his face made. "…Okay," he finally replied. "I'll…think of something."

Nodding, she walked to the bedroom that he had pointed out for her so she could use the private bathroom. Taking a look around, she guessed that it was his room due to the band posters on the wall and textbooks and clothes littering the floor. Lacrosse gear lay in a corner of the room reeking of that familiar grass meets sweat smell. She frowned. He was on the lacrosse team too, why didn't he go to the party?

A strong shiver taking over her body made her thoughts stop and switch over to getting warm as soon as possible. She closed the bathroom door and flicked on the light, briefly glancing around. She resisted the common urge to look through his medicine cabinet and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She twisted the knob to warm water and lifted the plunger that made the water spurt out of the shower head. It didn't take long for steam to cover up the mirror.

She shed herself of the large sweatshirt and wet clothes that peeled off her skin. Gooseflesh popped up as her damp skin hit the air and then intensified once she stepped underneath the shower head and felt the warm water hit her. She yanked the shower curtain shut and stood stock still beneath the warm water, letting it trickle down over her head, her shoulders, across her back and belly, and then drip down her legs.

This was heaven.

She didn't know how long she had been in the bathroom but the sound of knocking on the door jumpstarted her to get out. She wrenched the curtain back, only to groan in pain at the sudden movement in her shoulder. Grasping it, she stepped out of the tub and onto the rug. Grabbing a nearby towel, she wrapped it around herself and opened the door a crack to peer out.

"I got you some dry clothes," Isaac said, holding his arm through the crack in the door so she could get the clothes out of his hand. "They'll, uh, be kinda big but they should work."

She accepted the clothes and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be out in a minute."

"Take your time."

She leaned back and closed the door. She briefly looked at the clothes —lounge pants and a long sleeved shirt—and then dropped her towel to change into them. The pants were loose, as she expected. She rolled the band over a few times to keep the legs from dragging on the floor. She had to roll up the sleeves of the shirt as well just so they didn't hang down over her hands. Gathering up the wet clothes she had borrowed from Erica, she shuffled out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Placing the clothes on the floor, she walked over to the stack of CDs on the short bookshelf that had grabbed her attention.

She dragged her finger across the spines of some of the CD cases as she looked them over, moving past Coldplay, Belle and Sebastian, and Feist before resting on The Offspring. Eyes lighting up, she pulled the case out of the stack and flipped it to the back. Looking around, she spotted his CD player and powered it on. She popped out the CD that had been in it before and replaced it with The Offspring CD in her hands. The disc slid into the slot and a few seconds later the bass intro of _Can't Repeat_ flowed out of the speakers. Jabbing the next track button a few times she finally reached the song she wanted and cranked up the volume, jumping around when the guitars started.

"_If you could only read my mind, you would know that things between us…aint right…"_

There was nothing more therapeutic to her than music. She could always get lost in it, letting the notes and the rhythm and the lyrics wrap around her like a cocoon, shielding her from the stresses and the worries of the world. She lifted her arms in the air and continued to dance, jumping around and spinning in circles. She sang along to the song, dancing along to the drum beats and the guitar hits until she felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy but she kept going anyway. What was the fun in dancing if you didn't go all out?

"_I want you in a vinyl suit, I want you bad. Complicated. X-rated. I want you bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Bad._"

The song winded down, beginning to lead into the bridge. It was only then that she got the particular feeling of being watched. Whirling around, she flinched when she noticed Isaac leaning against the door frame, tapping a phone in his palm, an amused expression on his face. She sighed, her shoulders sagging, and jabbed the pause button ith her thumb. "Alright, you caught me. You know my secret, Lahey. I, Melanie Crowe, am a closet insta-dance-party-dancer."

Standing up straight, he ran a hand through his wavy hair and held out the phone with his free hand. "I can see why you're still in the closet about it," he commented. "Some of those moves? Yeah, they don't deserve to see the light of day."

"Hey! Mr. Broody can joke!" Melanie exclaimed, taking the phone from him. "What else can you do?"

"Ah…play lacrosse," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That's about it."

"That's lame. You have to have some secret talent." He shrugged. She mimicked his motion and then punched in the number to Erica's house using muscle memory. She had the number memorized since she was eight. "Eri! Hey!" she said once Erica picked up. "Listen, something happened, can you get your mom to come pick me up?"

"Yeah, but why? What happened to Stiles?"

"It's a long story. I just need her to come get me."

"Okay, hold on." Melanie placed a hand on her hip while she waited for Erica to relay the message. She could hear her yelling for her mom. A few seconds later she heard her mom yell back. Then Erica came back on the line. "She says she'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Great, thanks. Wait! I'm not at Lydia's! I'm at Issac's."

"Lahey?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Why are you at Isaac's?"

"Due to a combination of Scott, of Stiles, of a pool, and a broken phone. Look, I'll explain all of this once I get there, okay?"

"Okay, okay. See you soon."

"See ya."

Melanie hung up the phone and tossed the phone back to Isaac. "My ride will be here in twenty minutes," she relayed, crossing her arms across her chest in a loose manner. She turned to the bookshelf again. "So where'd you get your taste in music?"

"It's mostly from my brother, Camden," Isaac replied. Melanie nodded. She vaguely remembered hearing about his passing a few years ago. She remembered that Isaac wasn't in school for about a week after that news broke out. "He liked a lot of different genres and whenever he heard something he thought I would like he'd pass the CD onto me."

"You have some good stuff here. Though I do have to make a comment about…" she paused for dramatic effect and then pulled a CD off the shelf, "Taylor Swift." Her eyebrows lifted and she pressed her lips together to try and contain her amused smile.

His mouth dropped open, as if he were about to say something, but then he closed it. It opened again and then he closed it again. He rested his palm against his mouth and squinted at her as she laughed. "It's okay; I know she has some catchy songs. I'm not judging," she said, putting the CD back. "It's okay to like what you like." Pausing she asked the question that came to her mind, "Do you listen to her music to pump yourself up before a lacrosse game?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "No, I don't need music for that," he replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I have a different sort of motivation."

"Oh yeah?" Now she was interested. Tucking her still damp hair behind her ears she sat down next to him. "What's that? D'you imagine the other players are bugs that you crush beneath your feet or something?"

"No. I, ah…" he turned his eyes away and clasped his hands together, "I just…think that every person is standing in my way of gaining control."

Her eyes squinted. At the core of it that was what lacrosse was about, in a way, gaining control of the ball and trying to keep running with it. But it wasn't what he said that made her confused. It was the faraway look in his eyes as he spoke. As if he was looking but he wasn't exactly seeing.

"So what made you want to play lacrosse in the first place?"

He shrugged. "It's one of the few sports my brother didn't play at Beacon Hills," he replied.

She opened her mouth, ready to ask him to elaborate, but the door flying open and crashing against the opposite wall stopped her. She flinched at the noise but it made Isaac fall off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Once he saw his father standing in the doorway he scrambled up to his feet.

"Dad!" Isaac uttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "You, ah, you weren't supposed to be home yet."

Mr. Lahey grunted, his eyes swiveling over to Melanie who sat stock-still on the bed. "I can see that," he said calmly. "Isaac, why don't you introduce me to your friend here?"

"Uh. This is Melanie," he said, shuffling sideways. He kicked backwards and pushed her forgotten clothes beneath his bed. "She's…she's in my class."

Melanie leaned forward and waved at him. "Hi, it's nice to meet you," she said as cheerfully as she could muster. If her words could be seen in the air they would be stabbed to death by the daggers Mr. Lahey was shooting out of his eyes. She slowly lowered her hand and rubbed her lips together. Maybe it wasn't nice to meet him.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Lahey asked.

"She just…I-I found her walking around and…and she was wet—"

"Oh, I can see that," Mr. Lahey interrupted him, cutting Isaac off. Melanie felt a shiver roll down her spine with the way he glanced at her. "Look, I'm glad you helped someone in need. And I bet you're happy, this is the first time a girl's been in your room, so you should be proud about that." This time Melanie wasn't alone when she blushed, Isaac's cheeks turned a bright shade of red as well. Mr. Lahey grunted. "But I don't want to end up on some teen pregnancy show. That's not what happened here, right?"

"No, Dad, of course not," Isaac mumbled.

"Of course not," Mr. Lahey repeated. With a snort-like laugh he added, "You could only be so lucky." Isaac hung his head and Melanie scratched at her hair line for something to do to block herself from having to look at Mr. Lahey. Something about the way he was speaking and looking at them made her skin crawl and her muscles tense up. "Do you need a ride home?" Mr. Lahey asked.

"N-No sir," Melanie replied. "I have someone coming for me. In fact I think I'll just go wait outside for them." She bounced off the bed and onto her feet to squeeze past Mr. Lahey and out the door. Once she moved past him she felt as if she could breathe. It was amazing how one person could change the atmosphere in a room.

"Wait, Melanie, wait," Isaac called after her as she weaved through the house. He finally caught up to her on the front porch, which she regretted because she was now jumping around to keep her feet from having to touch the cold stone. "I'm sorry about him. About my dad. He's just—"

"Critical? Condescending? An ass? Insensitive?" she rattled off, still bouncing from foot to foot.

"Intense," Isaac offered up. "He, ah, he means well…in his own way."

"Look, Isaac, it's fine," she said, waving her hand. "Parents are weird. You should meet mine." Headlights illuminated the front porch as Mrs. Reyes pulled up in her Nissan sentra. "Anyway, thanks for taking me in. It was very sweet of you."

"I couldn't let you freeze to death."

"Well, you _could_ have but you didn't so thanks." Waving to Mrs. Reyes she added, "That's my ride. I'll bring you your clothes on Monday. They'll be washed." She hesitated and said, "Hey, if you ever want to hang out or something…give me a call. …Only not now 'cause I don't have a phone but when I get one and if you want to hang out or just chat or something then you can. Yeah, okay! I'm gonna go now. See you in school!"

Melanie jumped off the porch and ran down the concrete path to the driveway. She hopped into the passenger seat, thanking Mrs. Reyes, and buckled up. As they backed out the driveway she waved to Isaac who still stood on the porch. He waved back and turned back towards his house as the drove down the street. Melanie's head tilted in curiosity as she caught the look in his blue eyes once the headlights swung over his body again.

He looked afraid.

**# # #**

"Let me see it," Erica said firmly as she tugged on the collar of the shirt that Melanie wore. After Mrs. Reyes pulled up at her home Melanie had barged out of the car, into the house, and straight up to Erica's room to tell the whole story about what had happened. Erica sat, listening attentively as she ate from a carton of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream. But she put that aside as soon as she mentioned Jackson talking to her.

"It's not that bad, I swear," Melanie replied, leaning away from her and grabbing onto the fabric to pull the other way.

"If it's not that bad you'd let me see," Erica pointed out.

"Maybe I don't want you worrying over every little thing," Melanie shot back.

"Let. Me. See. It," Erica said while poking her in the cheek with each word.

"Okay, fine!" Begrudgingly, Melanie pulled the shirt down until the collar slipped past her shoulder so she could see the bruises left on her skin. She had to keep her facial expression under control so as not to alarm Erica. She didn't think it was _that_ bad but looking at it, she underestimated Jackson's grip. She could almost see individual finger placements where he had grabbed her. A fire flared up in her belly and she curled her fingers into a fist.

"That asshat," Erica growled. "Mels, you _can't_ keep letting him do that."

"Oh don't you worry! If he was embarrassed before that a girl got a shot past him he's gonna wish he never got out of bed on Monday," Melanie vowed, rubbing her arm. "Just…don't tell my mom. Or _your_ mom. 'Cause then the principal will get involved and I don't want it to turn into this big thing."

"Your secret's safe with me," Erica replied. "_But_. The second I don't think you can handle it I'm breaking the promise. Fair warning."

"You wouldn't be my Erica if you didn't have my back," Melanie agreed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "So what'd you do all night?"

Erica tilted her head forward so her hair hid her face but Melanie caught the smile in her voice, "Waited for you to come back."

Melanie reached behind her to grab a pillow and knocked Erica over the head with it. "Bonk!" she said, verbally adding in a sound effect. "Okay, okay, since you missed me _so much_ I'll allow you to put on _13 Going on 30._ But this will be the _only_ time I watch it," she said, her voice getting louder with the last few words so she was heard over Erica's squeal of excitement as she grabbed her laptop off the floor.

Huffing but accepting her face, Melanie tucked the pillow beneath her arms and lay across the bed. She watched as Erica clicked around the on the screen to bring up the DVD player. Melanie absentmindedly rubbed her shoulder while she waited and then a thought occurred to her.

"Oh crap."

"What?" Erica hummed.

"Isaac has my bra."

Erica's fingers froze on the keyboard. The two girls looked at each other. Erica was the first to crack. Despite her lips pressing together the sound of a rolling snort-like laugh sounded in her throat. That got Melanie smiling and soon the two used each other to try and stay upright amidst their body-wracking laughter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - So we have a longer scene with Isaac and Melanie. I don't know about you but I already like them together. And Melanie made the team! Second line, but better than nothing! And once again Erica's and Melanie's friendship makes me squishy inside. Now things are starting to get interesting with Derek showing up. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	6. (Bitter)sweet Revenge

**Chapter 6: (Bitter)sweet Revenge  
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The weekend slipped by and then next thing they knew Monday morning came again bright and early to the scent of buttery pancakes and sizzling sausage. The girls shuffled into the kitchen, their eyes still heavy with sleep, well, the lack of sleep. Throughout the weekend they managed to accumulate at least ten hours of sleep over the two day period but it was worth it to them. Their sleepovers were cherished weekly traditions. No matter what happened they always ended up regretting staying up so late over the weekend but then they would go ahead and do it again because it was the only time they could actually be together now.

The further they progressed in school the busier they became. Well, the busier _Melanie_ became. She helped in her mom's shop odd afternoons, she swam and was on the lacrosse team, she played the piano, she sang. She did this and this and this. And while that was going on Erica would either stay in her room waiting for Melanie to call for their nightly chats or she would have a doctor's appointment to take up the time. Either way she was always waiting on her or waiting for something. It didn't bother her, it was how things always had been, but she just didn't notice it until now.

Erica waited to be picked up for school or dropped off because she couldn't drive. She waited for a meeting to be let out to have five minutes between classes to chat about some piece of gossip she had heard. She waited to be acknowledged by someone who had hit her with their backpack but that one never came. It was as if she were invisible. And what kind of life was that? Having to constantly rely on someone wasn't her idea of living life and she had three people she needed to rely on: her mother, her doctor, her best friend. The day she would be able to stand on her own two feet would be the taste she could finally taste freedom.

But for now she didn't mind getting to hear the ways that Melanie was going to get revenge on Jackson and Stiles.

"Are you sure your shoulder's okay?" Erica asked as they entered the school building.

Melanie groaned long and loud, tilting her head back in the process. Jackson, who just so happened to walk by at the exchange, gave her an odd look. "Trying to call for a mate, Crowe?" he asked, his usual smug smile appearing on his face. "You won't attract anyone with that bellowing, sad to say."

"It made _you_ stop, didn't it? What does that say about you?" she shot back almost without a second thought. The words came out of her mouth with ease, almost as if she were having a conversation about the weather. Looking up she spotted him glaring at her and she happily waved back, continuing down the hall.

"He looked as if he wanted to kill you," Erica commented as they approached Melanie's locker.

"Yeah, I'd like to see him try anymore than he already has," she replied, tossing her lacrosse stick in. She was going to get her official practice jersey and game jersey that day. Number 16. She couldn't wait to get her hands on it. "Besides, he'd hear it from Lydia if he ever really beat me up. As cocky as he is, the boy's whipped."

As she pulled books out of her locker she felt Erica nudging her shoulder. Melanie regarded her, noting Erica's wide shifting eyes and the clearing of her throat. Was Jackson behind her? Monday's were hell to deal with, she didn't want him on her ass too all because she couldn't quit while she was ahead. Instead when she whirled around she came face to face with Isaac. Well, face to chest. She had to take a step backwards and tilt her head back to properly look at this face.

"Hey Isaac," she greeted him with a bright smile and wave. She snapped her fingers and tugged her backpack around to the front so she could dig in it. "I have your clothes here…somewhere…" she murmured, moving her hand around. "Ah! Here ya go!" she wiggled the shirt and pats out from the space her open zipper allowed. "It's all here, freshly washed and dried. Thanks again for helping out."

"You're welcome, no big deal," he replied. He accepted his clothes and opened his own backpack. After shoving them in, he then pulled hers out and handed them to her. "They're washed and dried too." She accepted them and shoved them into her backpack. "So…I'll see you in French, then."

Melanie nodded. "Sure. See you later." The bell rang, signaling for the students to head off to home room. Melanie waved as Erica looped her arm through hers and then two walked off down the hall.

"Hmm, he's cute," she noted, glancing over her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Melanie hummed, lifting her bag higher on her shoulder. She glanced back and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Okay, let's get to class. 'M not in the mood to see Stiles yet. And I _may _be arrested for murder if I do."

"Geeze, if you're this annoyed I can't imagine how Allison feels."

Melanie rolled her eyes. Even when Scott wasn't involved Allison still found a way to come up. It was beginning to get annoying.

The day moved by in a slow, uneventful manner and the next thing Melanie knew she was gearing up for lacrosse practice that day. She had to stop in Coach Finstock's office to get her jersey, which meant she had to pass through the boy's locker room to get there. Well she didn't _have_ to but going the long way around just to get her jersey was a bit ridiculous and when else would she have a good excuse to see a bunch of half naked boys? She was only human. A human that was going to enjoy herself.

She grabbed the handle of the locker room door before she could change her mind and pumped it, only to be slapped in the face by the very distinct smell of boy sweat and grass. Blinking rapidly to keep tears away, she regained her composure and walked past the group of lockers, keeping her eyes on the door of Finstock's office…which didn't last too long as boys milled about in different levels of undress, of which she couldn't help but admire.

Their realization that a girl was in the locker room fluttered across them like a wave and soon they were whistling at her and asking if she enjoyed the view. She smirked. Of course she did, but there was no reason to stroke their already large egos.

"Heyy," Stiles drew out his greeting as he stepped in front of Melanie who crossed her arms. "There's my favorite girl. My favorite girl who can't stay mad at me. Did you do something different to your hair? It looks great! Very…washed!"

Melanie pursed her lips. "Unless this rambling leads to an apology for _ditching_ me, you can stop talking right now," she told him.

"It does! It does! But, uh, wait a second…I have…something…" Stiles dug around in his bag which dangled off his shoulder. Melanie watched his frantic movements for a few seconds until he withdraw a large candy bar. Her eyes widened but then she caught herself and replaced her expression with one of indifference despite drool threatening to run down her chin. "Ah! There we go! It's a Hershey bar!" he waved it around as if she couldn't see the chocolate if he held it still. "But not just any Hershey bar! A _one pound_ Hershey bar! So? Is Stiles forgiven?"

"Why is Stiles talking in third person?" Melanie demanded, her eyes on the candy.

"Because Stiles doesn't want to die," he replied.

"So you think that you can buy my forgiveness with a bar of chocolate?" she asked, keeping her tone even. "You think I'm that cheap?" His face faltered and a look of horror appeared in his maple colored eyes. He began to stammer an apology but she smiled and snatched the candy bar out of his hand. "Lucky for you, you can," she said and unwrapped a corner of it, taking a bite. "I'm a cheap bitch, honestly," she added. She stuck her tongue out to catch any chocolate that had missed her mouth.

"So you forgive me?" he breathed.

"You're forgiven," she said while nodding. "What was wrong with Scott, anyway?"

He faltered. "What?"

"What was wrong with Scott? You said it was some kind of emergency. Must've been pretty big if he left precious Allison alone."

"Yeah, it was kinda…big…" his words died off as his eyes narrowed into a squint. Melanie's eyes shifted under his gaze and she widened her eyes, silently asking why he was looking at her like that. "Your eyes are green," he stated.

"Must be reflecting off my shirt," she said easily, taking another bite of her candy.

Stiles appeared unimpressed. "Oh, yeah, sure. I've heard of that phenomenon. That shirts can make someone's eye color _totally_ change. Yeah, 'cause Science works that way."

"Shut up, Piles," she mumbled, making a face.

"And will you _stop_ calling me Piles? I don't have hemorrhoids!"

"No, but it gets on your nerves so it's funny." She affectionately tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "Besides, I'm not…jealous or anything. I never liked Scott, I liked that he gave me his muffin. If you gave me your chocolate muffin instead of _laughing_ about me dropping mine I would've liked you too. I told you I'm cheap." She patted his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I have a jersey to pick up."

He mumbled a goodbye and she slipped past him and entered Coach's office. She knocked on the door frame and waited for him to look up from his paperwork. His eyes immediately jumped down to the candy bar in her hand and he sighed heavily.

"Oh, for the love of…Crowe, am I going to have to worry about you crying in the middle of the field?" Coach demanded.

Melanie scoffed, feeling the sting of his offending comment. "I'm not on my period, Coach," she stated, watching him flinch at the word, "and even if I _was_ I get angry, not sad."

"Good. Because I don't want another Greenburg on the field. All because he broke his finger. It was pathetic. Never seen that many tears since a sprinkler broke."

"Can I just have my jersey please?"

Coach stood and moved to the other side of the room. He yanked open a drawer and rifled through it until he pulled out three jerseys: one red practice jersey, one white practice jersey, and one red playing jersey. Bundling them all up he tossed them to her. Her face split into an exuberant smile as she ran her fingers across the numbers on it and then her name on the back. Holding the porous fabric in her hands, it finally hit her. She made the team.

"What, are you gonna hug me now? Get changed and get out there!" Coach barked.

"Yes sir!" Melanie happily replied, throwing in a salute for good measure. She practically floated all the way to the girl's locker room and was on Cloud 9 when she exited to get to the field. Nothing could touch her. Sunshine practically poured out of every orifice in her body. She didn't even mind that they had to deal with a brutal warm up session before they took the field for one-on-ones.

Danny was in goal and Jackson, with a long stick, was acting as a defender that they had to get past. His steel-eyed stare could be seen through the cage on his helmet. He wasn't messing around, not with their first game being that Saturday. Everyone was pumped up for it. Word around the halls was that it was going to be a big turnout. They would need all the support they could get.

Jackson was on fire at practice that day, Melanie had to admit. He knocked around anyone that got in his way or tried to score on him. Danny appeared to be getting bored in goal, not having anyone effectively try to take a shot on him. The line dwindled down as each player tried and failed to make a shot, which tore Coach down the middle. He shouted support for Jackson's force but then shouted at everyone else for not getting past him.

Then it was Scott's turn. Standing in between him and Stiles, Melanie licked her lips as Coach yelled for her, seemingly snapping him out of a daydream he was having. "Good luck," she whispered, hoping he could hear her encouragement. She could feel tension between him and Jackson before the whistle even blew for him to start running. She tugged at her collar. It made it hard for her to breathe. She held her breath as she watched Scott charge for Jackson…only to have Jackson knock him off his feet.

"Damn," Stiles whispered behind her. Damn was right. Melanie's fingers tightened against her stick as Coach began to berate him in front of everyone, comparing him to his dead grandmother. She shook her head. That was uncalled for. And Jackson seemed to be enjoying the moment, with how big his smirk was.

"McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!" Coach taunted as Scott ran back to the front of the line.

"Er…Scott? You okay?" Melanie asked, noting his now stiff posture.

"I'm fine," he responded, his voice gruffer than she had ever heard it.

The whistle blew again and Scott charged. Jackson ran to meet him and, surprisingly, Scott bowled him over. Jackson flew off his feet and landed hard on the ground, grasping his shoulder. Behind him, Scott fell to his knees, holding his head. The team broke formation and ran to Jackson's side; Stiles ran past them all and went for Scott.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Coach uttered in rapid succession as they gathered around Jackson as he rolled around on the ground, still clutching his arm. Melanie yanked off her helmet and stared down at him, his face scrunched up in pain. The sight made her uncomfortable. In the years that she had known Jackson he had never showed weakness, no matter how injured he was.

_Scott!_ Tearing her eyes away, Melanie lifted her head and searched the field for him. Her eyebrows lowered and her eyes narrowed when she spotted him and Stiles running away from the field, crouched low.

"Where are they going?" Isaac asked her.

She shook her head. "Maybe he pissed himself in excitement from knocking Jackson over," she offered up. "_I _would have." Isaac laughed and then changed it to a cough when he caught Jackson glaring at him from the grass. Melanie lightly punched him on the arm. Her attention had started to turn back to Jackson when something caught her eye.

Someone was standing off in the distance by the opposing bleachers. Someone in a black leather jacket and white t-shirt. Her head tilted as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had seen him somewhere before, but where…? The realization hit her with a jolt. Lydia's party! He drove Allison home. She continued peering at him and noticed that his gaze wasn't on their fallen teammember but something else. Melanie looked over her shoulder. Scott and Stiles were small dots in the distance as they ran towards the school. Melanie looked forward again and blinked.

The man was gone.

**# # #**

Melanie didn't have long to think about how weird Scott and Stiles were being or even that man that she saw on the fields. Come Wednesday she had another matter to worry about. She knew something was off when she set foot in school that morning. As soon as she lowered her headphones from her ears she noticed the whispers firing off around her rapidly as she walked towards her locker.

She checked her hair for flyaways, rubbed a finger against her teeth to cheek for food, checked her shirt for stains, and then started spinning around on the spot to check if her time of month had come earlier than she expected. Nope, her ass was clear. So what in the world could have happened that she suddenly had the attention of people who didn't know she existed before?

"Trying to chase your tail?" Allison commented, coming in through the door behind her. Lydia's eyes flickered up to the ceiling and she pursed her lips as she stood by.

"You could say that," Melanie replied, holding out her arms to keep her balance. "People are being weird; I wanted to check that I wasn't seeing red."

"That's why you wear black on those days," Lydia sighed, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not only is it slimming but good coordination can be a…good surprise," she continued, directing the last part of her sentence to Jackson who had walked by in that moment. Lydia grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled her lips down to his. Melanie made a face and turned away while Allison looked down to avoid the display of affection.

"Mmm, don't tease me," Jackson muttered as soon as he pulled away.

"Oh, but I know how much you love to be teased," Lydia cooed.

Melanie and Allison exchanged a look. As much as she wasn't too fond of the new girl she did appreciate that they had something in common besides French class—that they couldn't stomach Lydia's and Jackson's affection towards one another, especially when it crossed a line.

"So, uh, Jackson. How's your shoulder?" Melanie asked, changing the subject.

All traces of human emotion that had once occupied his face dropped at her question and a mask appeared in its place. He snorted, wrapping an arm around Lydia's shoulders. "How do you think my shoulder is, Crowe?" he asked. "And why d'you care?"

"Uhhh, I'm your teammate? I was just checking—"

"Checking that I could play or else McCall takes over? Yeah. Fat chance." He dropped his arm from Lydia's shoulders and stepped closer to Melanie, towering over her. He jabbed at her chest with his finger. "I'm playing in that game. And you can let McCall know that I'm playing." With one final push to her shoulder he turned away and walked off with Lydia.

"Okay, I think he broke my sternum," Melanie mumbled, rubbing her chest. "I just don't get it. Why would Lydia date someone like him?"

Allison shrugged. "Maybe she sees something we don't."

"She must have x-ray vision, then. So what's up? Why aren't you trotting after them?"

Allison tucked her hair behind her ear and rubbed her lips together. "Well, my French partner isn't here today. I was thinking maybe during class I could sit with you?"

"Ah – sure, why not?" Melanie replied. She needed to keep Scott on her good side if she was going to get any sort of answer out of him about why he's been acting weird lately, and being unnecessarily rude to Allison wasn't going to help her with that. "So what country are you reporting on?"

"Italy," Allison replied. "We're going to focus our project on its art and architecture. What about you? You and Isaac have Greece, right?"

"Yup," Melanie said, popping her 'p'. "I think we lucked out, Greece has a lot of history and mythology to boot. So we're going to do a report on some of the mythology and how it influenced current stories and religion and stuff." They walked into the library and waved to Ms. Morrell to let them know they were there so they couldn't be counted as absent. They sat down at a table and took out their books. "I wanted to act something out but I think that would've given Isaac a heart attack," she continued, flipping open a notebook. "So I get to spend my French class looking at naked people."

Dimples appeared in Allison's cheeks as she grinned but they quickly faded at a harsh whisper that reached both their ears, "Not the first people you've seen naked, not the last." She pressed her lips together and avoided the confused expression on Melanie's face as she whirled around to see who it was that spoke.

"Hey, uh, why don't you tell me a story about Zeus?" Allison asked, pointing at a book with her pen.

Melanie turned her suspicious look to Allison. It slowly faded as she pulled her eyes down to her notebook. "Well, he rules the Olympians and Mount Olympus. He is the god of sky and thunder in Greek Mythology. He's usually married to Hera and according to some sources he is the father of Aphrodite—which makes sense in retrospect. He's widely known for his erotic escapades—"

The whisper came again, "She would know all about that."

Melanie stopped her reading and looked around again. No one looked her in the eye; they turned away as soon as she came into eye contact with someone. When she turned back around in her seat Allison was biting on the end of her pen.

"Okay, what do you know?" Melanie demanded.

"I don't know anything," Allison replied.

"_Allison_," she said sternly.

Allison sighed. "Look, it's just…I-I don't think you want to see it," she said.

"See _what_?" Melanie demanded.

"D…Don't you have your phone?"

"It got busted when I fell into Lydia's pool—just tell me what you're talking about," Melanie said, holding up her hand to stop Allison from changing subjects. She was on alert now. She wasn't imagining the whispers and the pointing. And if it wasn't anything on her end that had to mean it was something else. Something out of her control.

"Okay…but I tried to warn you," she said. She removed her phone from her pocket, tapped around with her thumb, and then held it out for Melanie to take.

Melanie grasped the phone and tapped it to brighten up the screen and then her stomach dropped. It was a picture attached in a text message of her and Isaac from a few days before, exchanging clothes. The comment beneath the picture made her heart ram in her chest: LACROSSE WHORE. CHEAP. ACCEPTS CHOCOLATE FOR SERVICES. Everything inside her came crashing down. She felt a prick behind her eyes and pressure building up in her nose. But she lifted her chin, cleared her throat, and said, "Some people have too much time on their hands," and handed the phone back.

"Are you…okay?" Allison asked slowly.

"Yeah," Melanie replied. "It's just idiots trying to start something because they're bored. No big deal. Besides," a slow smile appeared on her face, "they could've used a cuter picture of me." Allison's dimples deepened as she laughed.

When Isaac sat down next to her for them to continue work on their project she kept her words and her face light amidst the whispering going on behind her back. After the class ended and she was put at the mercy of the other students in her school she kept her head high and did her best to ignore the comments and the hissing but their words were barbed. They struck her time and time again and embedded themselves in her skin until they burned.

But still she tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the points and the whispers and the stares and the ringing phones. Stiles and Scott came up to her, to ask how she was doing but she remained cheerful and shifted the conversation over to the game they were going to play on the weekend. Apparently all of their parents were going to make it out to watch them play. The turnout was going to be big.

But even that news didn't stop the lurking monster from getting to her, from jumping out of nowhere by pelting her back with Hershey kisses. Palms slapping against one another sounded like gunshots as two boys guffawed at their joke. Looking them in the eye, Melanie picked one off the floor, removed the foil, and popped it into her mouth and then she thanked them for her snack.

During Algebra class Erica passed her a note, asking if she was okay but Melanie ignored it. Of course she was okay. Couldn't she see the smile on her face or the lilt in her voice? Couldn't Erica see that she was doing fine ignore it all?

But the lump in the pit of her stomach sat heavy like a rock. It bounced around her insides and made its presence known despite how hard she tried to ignore it pressing on her nerves. The pressure increased the longer the school day went on. Allison would give her pitying looks from time to time, as if she were trying to apologize for everything that was going on, which only made her annoyed, as much as she tried not to let on.

Finally she caught a break. She could breathe once the school bell rang and classes ended for that day. She swapped out her books for homework that night and told Erica that she would see her later before going to the locker room for practice.

It was empty by the time she got in, the trailing voices of the female soccer players faded once the door closed. Heaving a large, cleansing sigh Melanie went to her assigned locker and spun the dial on her combination lock. Each correct number made a clicking sound and then she yanked down on the lock to removed it. Shoving it in the mesh side pocket of her backpack, she wrenched open her locker door.

"What the hell!?" she uttered, feeling a cascade of Hershey kisses rain down atop of her head. Lifting her hands, she blocked the flow of candy as best as she could. They bounced off her palm and scattered across the floor around her feet and beneath the wooden bench between the two rows of lockers. Finally the candy stopped falling and any previous noise was replaced by deafening, still silence.

Melanie pushed her bangs out of her face and looked at the silvery candy that littered the floor and pooled around her feet. The prick behind her eyes came back, much stronger than before. Pressure built behind her nose and no matter how hard she clenched her teeth her lower lip began to tremble.

"_Fuck!_" she yelled, slamming her lacrosse stick against the lockers. The loud clang echoed in the empty room. Yelling again, she threw down her stick and then her backpack followed suit. A dam behind her eyes broke and tears poured down her face. Her breaths came out thick and heavy and her face burned from her efforts to keep everything inside. But that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Pressing her back against the cool wall of lockers, her legs gave way until she sat on the dirty floor, head in her arms, her body wracking with unrestrained sobs. She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the door to the locker room open or someone approach until she felt a presence next to her.

"Are you okay?" Erica asked softly.

"What do you think?" Melanie wailed, lifting her head. "People think I slept with Stiles and Isaac and they think I was _paid_ for it in _chocolate_ and they think that I slept my way onto the team!"

Erica shoved her had in her purse and pulled out a package of tissues. She pulled one out and held it up to Melanie's nose. "Blow," she instructed. Melanie blew her nose into the tissue and Erica pinched it, sealing the mucus inside.

"What are you still doing here? I thought your mom was taking you home," Melanie mumbled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, her sentence peppered with paused due to her intake of breath.

"I knew you'd need me sooner or later," Erica replied. "And I may have detention."

"What for?" Melanie asked.

Erica gave a bashful smile and replied, "I may have tried to beat Jackson up for some comments he was making."

"You tired to beat up Jackson?" Erica nodded. "Jackson?" She nodded again. "Jackson _Whittemore_."

"He can't just say shit about my best friend," Erica said, reaching out and brushing hair off of Melanie's face. "That's not okay."

"What are you going to do? Beat up the entire school?"

"I can try, but I know something better that will work."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Show them up," Erica stated. Melanie blinked. That was it? That was all she had to say about the matter. Erica nodded her head, as if reading Melanie's mind. "They think you slept around to get on the team, show them how hard you worked out on that field today. Show them how hard you worked tomorrow. Show them how hard you worked by being a key member to the team. Coach Finstock put on on it for a reason, right? Show. Them. Why," she said, tapping Melanie's nose with her finger with each word. "You went against all the naysayers before. Do it again. Be the Melanie that I admire."

Tilting her head, Melanie rested it on Erica's shoulder and breathed out a shaky breath. "Sometimes I wish it was just you and me in the world. It would make it much easier."

Erica kissed the top of her head. "If the world catered to our wishes, I'd want the same thing. But because it doesn't we have to make do and make it ours." Feigning ignorance she scratched her head and asked, "Who was it that said that this year we were going to make it 'ours'?"

"I did," Melanie replied, sniffing.

"Right. Now get your cute ass in your jersey and show these boys what a girl can do. I'm not going to be freezing my ass off for my best friend for nothing."

Punching Erica on the arm, Melanie brushed away any remaining tears that stained her cheeks. Erica was the first to stand and once she stood at her full height she grabbed Melanie's hands and pulled her to her feet, then she pulled her into a hug. "Mom's getting me after detention so call me afterwards, promise?"

"Promise," Melanie replied, her voice muffled by Erica's shirt.

The two parted and Melanie set about cleaning up the candy on the floor and then changed into her practice gear. Carrying her helmet and stick out to the field she apologized to Coach for being late and did her extra suicide runs as punishment. Panting afterwards, she trudged over to the bench to grab her helmet and get a swig of water.

"I…I tried getting people to stop talking," Isaac said quietly as the rest of the team came over for water. "Told them what happened. I think it helped but, um, you, uh, you doing okay?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied, looking around at the maroon wall surrounding her, the fire returning to her eye, "never been better."

**# # #**

The bitter cold didn't stop Melanie's nerves from jumping around that Saturday night nor did it deter the spirit of the Cyclone supporters in the stands. Everyone was bundled up in their hats, gloves, and scarves to support the lacrosse team on their big first game of the season. Parents and students alike crammed into the two bleachers, ready for the game to start. Nothing could beat the energy that flitted throughout the field.

"Oh! Look! There's my mom and dad!" Melanie pointed out happily as she walked with Scott and Stiles to the field. She bounced on her toes and waved at them. They pointed and waved back. Their smiles slipped off their faces when Melanie recoiled when she felt another familiar thunk against the back of her head. "Seriously, they're not done with that?" she mumbled, feeling her shoulders droop. It seemed the more she tried to ignore the talk the rest of the week the more relentless they became. And now her parents were around, couldn't they give her a break? "Maybe this was a mistake."

"Hey, whoa, no," Stiles said, whipping out his lacrosse stick to block her from walking, effectively stopping Scott, who was walking in between them, from walking as well. "You stop that right now. Just focus on lacrosse, okay? Just focus on lacrosse. You got your stick? You got your helmet? Good. Don't think about anything else. Block it all out. You got it? You good?" Melanie nodded her head and exchanged a look with Scott. His motivational speeches were a force to be reckoned with. "Alright. You can do this. Besides…I need someone to ride the bench with me while Scott's out there being all awesome."

"Thanks, guys. No pressure," Scott muttered as they approached the benches. Melanie's eyebrows lifted when Lydia approached and they almost launched off her forehead when she spoke to _Scott_. The expression on Stiles's face mirror how strange the moment was but the two still walked away to give them privacy.

"Erica, you came!" Melanie said happily as her friend approached. "And…you painted your face," she continued, noticing the number 16 on both cheeks in black. "Eri, you know that stuff makes you break out."

"So does my medicine," Erica replied with a shrug. "Besides, you're worth it," she added, tugging on Melanie's ponytail which sat low on her shoulder.

"I'm not even playing," Melanie pointed out, her breath forming a cloud in front of her when she sighed.

"That doesn't mean I still can't support you," Erica said. "Now go and warm that bench. I'll be sitting with your mom and dad."

They hugged quickly and Erica pushed her way through the crowd to get to the bleachers as Melanie rushed to catch up to Stiles. They sat down on the bench and got situated when Coach came by to sit. He shoved Greenburg off the bench and dropped down next to Jackson, asking if his shoulder was alright, which they all knew he would play on even if it _wasn't_.

A few tense minutes later the whistle finally sounded which was followed by a loud roar as the opposing team and the Beacon Hills Cyclones jumped up to take the field.

"Hey kid," Sheriff Stillinski greeted Stiles as he appeared behind the bench. Melanie had to work her muscles to keep herself from hopping onto the player next to her out of surprise. Stiles pulled the glove he had been chewing on out of his mouth and greeted his father in return. "So you think you'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" Stiles repeated. "Maybe."

"You alright, dude?" Melanie asked, pushing his arm.

"Wha, me? Yeah. I'm alright. I'm great, even," Stiles replied, running a hand over his buzzed haircut. "Great, great, great, great."

Another whistle blew and the game started. Applause and cheers ran up and down the bleachers as Jackson got control of the ball and charged the field. He looked around and shot the ball to a teammate despite Scott waving that he was open. They tossed the ball back and forth to one another as they advanced.

"Oh, come on," Stiles groaned.

"Maybe they just don't see him," Melanie offered up.

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles replied but he didn't sound convinced.

The ball was knocked out of a player's hand and rolled harmlessly on the grass. Scott spotted it and went for it but in the same instant Jackson went for the ball. Jackson barely edged Scott out and knocked him out of the way as he scooped the ball up for himself. A groan went through the crowd as Scott fell onto his side. The grown quickly changed to a loud cheer as Jackson scored the first goal of the quarter with eleven minutes left. High fives were spread between Jackson and the team as Scott looked on, shaking his head.

Melanie stretched her legs out on the bench and watched as Coach jumped up and down the sidelines screaming for Jackson to get fired up. She shook her head in disgust. Were she and Stiles the _only_ ones who saw that Jackson had knocked Scott over just to get to the ball? Did they not see that no one was passing to him?

She shoved her thumbnail into her mouth and began to bite on it as the players set up again. Her leg bounced as her foot rapidly tapped against the ground. Her focus was broken by Stiles's utter of, "Oh, this is not gonna be good."

"Why, what's wrong?" Melanie asked.

"Turn around," Stiles replied, his jaw set.

Melanie whirled around. She didn't have to work hard to figure out what it was that Stiles was talking about. Lydia and Jackson were holding up a large sign that read WE LUV U JACKSON. She grimaced. Scott had seen it, of course.

"But he couldn't actually believe that Allison is into Jackson when she's obviously into _him_," she said aloud. She didn't get a response from Stiles who had gone back to chewing on his glove. She glanced back at the field and saw some of the boys huddling together, talking about something. Even if she strained to hear she wouldn't be able to tell what it was that they were saying over the noise and she couldn't read lips with their helmets blocking their faces.

The team set up for the next play and it wasn't until the ref spoke to Scott that she noticed his breath clouds coming out funny. "Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles," she said pushing his arm, never breaking her gaze at Scott, "what's wrong with him?"

"He, erm…_asthma!_" Stiles replied. "He's having a bit of a breathing problem. Yeah! He'll be fine."

She frowned. That wasn't an asthma attack, from what she remembered. His breathing was too even, too heavy. Almost as if he was heaving for his breath. She looked at Stiles out of the corner of his eye who looked much jumpier than he was before. First the party where he acted weird, then practice when, in the blink of an eye, he knocked Jackson out, and now this. Something in her gut told her that something wasn't adding up.

"Hey, how're we doing so far?" Isaac asked, dropping down on the bench. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"One point so far," Melanie replied. "Jackson scored it. He even—what the heck happened to _you_?" she asked, taking in his disheveled appearance. Her eyes roamed from his unkempt hair to the flush in his cheeks to the sweat on his face and to his twisted jersey.

"Had to ride my bike," Isaac replied. "Lost track of time. Did Coach notice?"

"Coach is too busy wanting to throw himself at Jackson's feet, don't worry."

Isaac nodded and brushed his arm across his forehead. The motion drew her attention to his knuckles which were red and scraped. A few still had shiny beads of blood on them but he didn't seem to notice as he fixed his jersey and got comfortable on the bench. The bowling whistle made her abandon the unasked question in her head. It could wait, the game was more important.

The game became a tense battle for the ball. Stick and hand checks increased in occurrence as the first quarter turned to the second and then the second turned to a third after half time. The longer they played the harder they hit. The teams moved back and forth across the field, blocking shots and knocking over anyone that got in their way.

Finally it all came down to the last minute and a half in the fourth quarter. Beacon Hills was down by two. They needed a good upset to win the game. The more the team refused to pass to Scott the more worked up Stiles got until Melanie and Greenburg had to hold him down with a lacrosse stick across his lap in fear of him jumping on the ref to try and see a bad call. They knew he would do it too, if he was unrestrained.

Jackson and the opposing player bowed down and fought over the ball for another play. The opposing player managed to get it and fling it into the air. It arced up and came back down. Another team player on the visiting team was prepared to catch it but Scott _stepped over their head_ to catch the ball.

"Did I just see that?" Melanie asked, unblinking.

"Yeah," Isaac replied, slowly nodding his head. "What's he on?"

"I don't know."

The crowd went wild as Scott sprinted down the field, turning and ducking out of the way of anyone that tried to stop him. It was almost as if they were all to slow for him. He took a shot and scored another goal with a minute and five seconds to spare. The crowd exploded in excitement; Stiles the most excited of all of them as he jumped to his feet and searched for high fives.

"Wooooo! Go Scott!" Melanie cheered, waving her stick in the air.

Coach and Stiles started marching down the sidelines, screaming for the team to pass to Scott. Melanie snuck a glance at Jackson and saw his face turn to stone. She couldn't help but smirk. That's what he got for pushing everyone around and feeling superior to everyone else and forgetting that they were all on the same team.

The teams lined up on the line again. There was no restraining the crowd as time ticked on once the whistle blew. Jackson lost the fight again. A white jersey player got the ball and started to run for it but stopped when he looked at Scott. Large clouds of breath seeped out of his helmet and the opposing player looked terrified. So terrified in fact that he _threw the ball to Scott_ and then moved out of his way.

Once again Scott raced to the goal. No one could catch him. No one could touch him. With a loud growl he threw the ball and it moved so fast it broke through the opposing goalie's net, tying up the game at thirty-nine seconds left.

"Did you see that? _Did you see that?_" Melanie yelled, slapping Isaac's shoulder. She barely noticed Stiles sitting back down on the bench in her excitement.

"No, I am _completely_ blind, Melanie," Isaac replied, grabbing her hands to stop her. Despite his words he had a small smile on his face.

"We can win this, we can totally win this! Pass to Scott! _Pass to Scott!_" she yelled.

Jackson crouched down at the line again. Once again the ball was captured by the other team but Scott managed to get it and charged the net. Beacon Hills was already on its feet, expecting the win as Scott slowed down, drawing out the clock, surveying his opponents.

"Oh no, no, no, no. Scott, no," Stiles muttered.

"What's wrong with you?" Melanie demanded, backslapping his arm. "We're going to win!"

Time ticked down. Scott stood still and no one charged him. They all looked at one another. Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. Scott's head twisted this way and that. His opponents didn't seem to know whether to charge him or stand their ground.

Seven seconds.

Six seconds.

Five seconds.

Someone made a decision. An opposing defender charged Scott. He drew back his arm, twisting at the waist, and threw the ball forward.

The crowd held it's breath.

The sound of the ball hitting against the net seemed amplified amongst the quiet field.

Beacon Hills won!

"Wooooooo!" the audience yelled, jumping up and down, applauding the come from behind win all because of Scott McCall.

"Scott, you did it! You did it! Woooooo!" Melanie cheered above the noise, using her cupped gloved hands to magnify her screaming.

"Yes!" Stiles screamed and then laughed. "Oh my god!" He opened his arms and welcomed Melanie's excited jump onto him as the stands emptied and the audience poured out onto the field.

He set her down and she began dancing in place, screaming at the top of her lungs at their win. They actually did it! They actually won! She hoped that they would set a good start on the season and if this wasn't it she didn't know what it could be.

The smile on her face that made her cheeks ache slowly faded when she spotted someone sprinting off the field. Number 11. Scott. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why was he running away when he had just won the game for them? When he became a hero?

_That's it_! If anyone knew anything about the world of Scott McCall it would be his buddy. Stepping over the bench she had occupied for the past hour, she marched over to Stiles who was talking to his father and tapped him on the shoulder until he turned around.

"What's his deal?" she asked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to where Scott had disappeared into the darkness.

"Uh…." Stiles dragged, his eyes bouncing around. Melanie crossed her arms and waited. "He's just excited! He's like a puppy! You know how they get when they're excited. Need to empty that bladder."

She grabbed his shoulder and held onto his jersey before he could turn away. She was tired of being lied to. "Stiles Stilinski, there is something going on with Scott and I want to know what it is _right now_."

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ –We finally reached (and finished) episode two! Hooray! So I usually showed Erica's and Melanie's friendship from Erica's side and so, in this chapter, I decided to give you all a glimpse of their friendship from Melanie's side to explain why they're such good friends. You always have to have someone there to catch you when you fall, no matter how strong you are. I hope you enjoyed the last little bit of normalness before we jump into the supernatural side of things. Also, are my chapters too long or are they the right length for you all? Thanks for reading, please review.


	7. Strange Bedfellows

**Chapter 7: Strange Bedfellows  
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The game winning high carried Melanie through the weekend despite the fact that she didn't set foot on the field. The fact that they were able to score a come-from-behind win made her even more excited to be a part of the team. So what if she still got messages through Facebook about the photos? They didn't bother her. If anything it bothered the Crowe family supply of ice cream more than it bothered her. Good thing she was still phoneless otherwise her hidden candy stash would have taken a bad hit.

After the game she had a sleepover with Erica (which she had to fight hard to get because of the new curfew) and they spent the night recounting every second of the game. Well, Melanie spent the night talking about it. Erica pretended to be interested for Melanie's sake. She knew next to nothing about the rules, what hits were allowed, why sticks were longer than others, let alone the simple rules of the game but she wasn't one to damper Melanie's excitement about the sport. She didn't want to take away the sparkle in her eye or the passion in her voice.

But that soon switched over to the topic of Scott and how weird he was acting, at least by Melanie's standards'. She tried to analyze how he had suddenly became stronger than he was before, faster than he was before, had better aim, better reflexes, and didn't seem to need his inhaler any longer. But Erica wouldn't have it. She shut Melanie up by smacking her with a pillow which started a large pillow fight ending in them collapsed on her bed. It wasn't long before the two girls slipped into a heavy sleep brought on by the excitement of the week.

It was only broken by Mrs. Reyes waking them up due to Melanie's mother calling her and asking for her to come into the flower shop to help out. Melanie woke up and practically flew out of bed, running around to gather up her things to get to work. Mrs. Reyes wouldn't have her leaving without breakfast so she wolfed down some eggs, hash browns, bacon, and orange juice, bid Erica goodbye, and ran out the door.

She drove to work as fast as the speed limit would allow, yawning all the way. She was surprised she didn't get into a wreck. Getting a sleep-deprived teen to drive to work wasn't a good idea. She made a mental note to talk to her mother about that. After all, she wouldn't want to lose her only child would she? Melanie didn't think so.

She swung her red truck into the parking lot and took a space close to the entrance. Grabbing a snickers bar from the glove compartment, she left the truck and the door shut with her hip. Jabbing the remote to lock the door behind her she rushed inside and ducked behind the counter.

"You're late," Arabella noted as she came out of the backroom. Melanie didn't notice the disapproval in her voice.

"I know, I'm sorry," Melanie replied, holding the now unwrapped candy bar between her teeth as she tied the strings of her apron behind her. "But if you want to blame anyone, blame Mrs. Reyes. She wouldn't let me leave until I ate breakfast. What a horrible human being, right? Making sure I ate breakfast instead of being to work on time. Tsk tsk."

Arabella's eyes rolled over to her as she tried to fight a smile. "Don't be such a smartass," she muttered, grabbing a pair of scissors off of the counter. "Look, I have a few arrangements I need to finish in the back that I need you to deliver later, okay? Stay up here and handle anyone that comes in. if you need help with anything holler for me."

"Mom, I've been helping out since I was twelve. I think I know what I'm doing," Melanie replied, chomping into her candy. Moving it to the side of her mouth with her tongue she asked, "Hey, can I borrow the computer?"

"Did you forget what the definition of 'work' was?" she asked, her hand resting on the door of the backroom.

"It's…homework," Melanie replied. "Do you _want_ me to fail?"

Arabella looked as if she were about to argue. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and said sternly, "You get to work _the second_ someone comes in, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Melanie muttered, waving her away. The door to the back room swung shut. She minimized the window for the program they used to organize flower orders and brought up an internet browser.

She went to a search engine and typed in 'superhumans'. She hummed as she waited for it to spit out links. Her eyes scanned over a definition, which she already knew, before jumping down a little further. She tapped her fingers against her chin as she read about genetic modification, cybernetic implants, nanotechnology, and other procedures that she was sure that Scott hadn't gotten over the course of one break.

She ran across an article about a few naturally superhuman people—such as someone impervious to temperatures or a blind man that used echolocation—but nothing about increased strength or any of the other abilities Scott possessed. She hit the back button and continued looking down the page.

The bell attached to the door frame jingled as the door slipped by. Pulling a face, Melanie minimized the screen she had been looking at and stood up straight as a woman with wavy brown hair approached. She hooked her bag higher on her shoulder and flashed a smile as she approached.

"Hi. Welcome to Flowerworks. How may I help you?" Melanie greeted with as much enthusiasm as she could muster despite her eyes widening. She hoped she the guest couldn't tell that she wasn't actually doing her job.

"Hi, I have just had a question to ask. It may be a bit strange," the lady said as her eyes moved around the shop, taking in the bright florals surrounding her.

"Trust me, I've heard a lot of strange questions around here," Melanie said with a wave of her hand. "From how edible they are to some, ahem, _questionable_ content that we put in the notes. Nothing fazes me."

"Okay then," the lady said with a challenging look in her eye as she rested her palm against the glass counter. "Do you happen to carry…aconitum?" Melanie blinked once. Twice. Three times. The lady stared back at her, waiting for a response as Melanie's mind jogged to catch up to the question. Okay, maybe something _could_ faze her. "Aconitum is—" the woman started.

"I know what it is," Melanie jumped in. "It goes by monkshood or blue rocket or devil's helmet. But it's mostly known as wolfsbane," she rattled off as if she were listing the ingredients in a Big Mac.

"Smart girl," the lady said with a smile. "You're into flowers then?"

"Well, I don't work at a flower shop 'cause it makes me smell good," Melanie replied. The lady laughed. "Anyway, I'm sorry, we don't sell wolfsbane."

"Are you sure?" the lady asked.

"Kinda?" Melanie replied, her eyebrows lowering. "It's against regulations to sell wolfsbae. Hell, you'd be crazy to go near it. It's super poisonous to humans. The toxins can soak through skin easily. If consumed it kills within six hours. I mean, the symptoms are horrible: vomiting, diarrhea, burning, tingling, numbness of the mouth and face, burning of the abs—and in severe cases—motor weakness. Not to _mention_ heart, lung, and organ failure." She gave a humorless laugh. "Talk about a draaaaag."

"Yeah, that does sound like a drag," the lady said with a little laugh. "I _did_ say it was a strange question."

"That you did, can't blame you for false advertising," Melanie agreed. "Can I interest you in something else? A rose arrangement perhaps? Sunflowers? Daisies? Buttercups?" Motioning the lady closer she said in a stage whisper, "Don't let the name fool you. They can't actually hold butter. I tried."

The lady laughed. "Thanks but I think I got everything I need," she replied. "Thanks anyway."

"Okay, bye," Melanie said while waving. "Weirdo," she muttered under her breath once the lady left.

She stepped over to the computer and maximized the internet window. Not finding any good results on the first page she clicked on the little number two at the bottom and moved onto the next page. She clicked the next page when nothing stood out and then the next and the next.

"Come on," she muttered, staring at the blinking cursor. She backspaced 'superhumans' and left the search box blank. She drummed her fingers against the counter as she thought. Maybe if she made her search more specific…. She typed in enhanced speed, enhanced strength, enhanced reflexes and put quotation marks around each entry to make sure the results came out with the words included. She clicked search and waited for the page to load.

The bell rang again and she jerked her head up only to relax when she saw who it was. "Are you stalking me, Isaac?" she asked as he approached the counter. "I'm beginning to see you around everywhere."

"Well, we go to the same school, are paired up for a project, and are on the lacrosse team together," he said counting on his fingers. "I'd say they're all coincidences."

"Damn," she muttered, "if you were following me I was hoping that you liked the view." His blinked rapidly and his mouth followed suit, opening and closing rapidly. "Joke. That was a joke, Isaac," she said and chuckled. "D'you have an order?" she asked, bringing up the software for the shop.

"Yeah, actually. It's, uh…" he paused and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, "gerbera vase arrangement."

"Hmmm…ah. Yeah, here it is," Melanie said as she located his order. "Gimmie a sec." Leaving the front she pushed her way into the back room. She moved past a rack full of flowers and turned the corner to see Arabella talking on the phone.

"Look, we'll continue this discussion later…bye," she said in a hushed whisper and hung up. "Yes, what is it?" she asked, shoving her phone into her pocket.

"Er…pickup for Lahey," Melanie replied.

"Ah, yes. It's right…here." Arabella picked up a nearby blue glass vase that held an arrangement of blue, white, pink, and orange flowers. "Here."

"Thanks." Melanie carefully accepted the vase. "Mom. Is, uh, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine sweetie," Arabella said, waving her hand. Her free hand rubbed against her forehead. "Please take that out front."

"Fine, okay." Pushing her back against the door, Melanie carried the arrangement up to the counter. Isaac stood up straight when she went to the computer and came up with the price. "That'll be $38.99." She held out her hand, waiting for him to drop the money into it. As he placed the money in her palm she noticed the now-healing scrapes on his knuckles and before she could stop herself she blurted out, "Isaac, how come your dad doesn't come to your games?" He froze, the question seemingly catching him off guard. She mentally hit herself. A question like that aimed at her would make her feel attacked, who knew how he felt. Leave it to her to stick her foot in her mouth. "I-I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that," she said.

"I-it's okay," he replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. "He – ah – he just gets busy. Working at the graveyard and everything."

"Oh, so he works the graveyard shift?" she asked. She smacked her palm against her forehead in the next second. "Stupid joke. Really bad joke. Sorry. I bet you get that all the time."

"Once or twice," he said modestly. He scooped the vase off the counter and cradled it in his arms. "So, uh, I guess I'll see you in school."

"Wait!" Melanie practically yelled. He visibly flinched at the sound. "Sorry. I was just gonna ask who the flowers are for."

He blinked and then his facial muscles relaxed to a smirk-like teasing smile. "Isn't there supposed to be some sort of confidentiality between buyer and seller?" he asked.

"Probably but I'm too nosy to follow that rule," she replied honestly.

He nodded and looked at the vase. "They're, ah, they're for my mom."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh! Is she in town? Was she away? Or is she sick? I hope she's not sick. That'd suck. I mean, obviously, no one likes being sick. Come to think of it, I've never seen her before, I don't think. I mean, we'd all know if she worked the graveyard. S'not exactly a _normal_ job, right?"

"She's dead," Isaac stated bluntly.

Melanie pressed her lips together and then let them go with a loud pop. "Well…you may want my autograph because I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world who can talk with both feet in her mouth."

"It's an interesting sight."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

Isaac chuckled; his laugh was quiet in the otherwise still store. "So, school?"

"That magical place where we're forced to learn, yeah," Melanie said. "See you then. Maybe we can actually get more of our project done without being interrupted." She tried to hide the bitterness in her voice but it seeped through.

He clicked his tongue as he backed towards the door. "Don't listen to 'em. Okay? It's just…a stupid story."

She sighed. "Yeah but your hard work wasn't trivialized in the aftermath," she pointed out. "Besides…the only thing I got out of it was a candy bar, apparently. I would hope that I'm worth more than that," she tried to joke.

He pressed his back against the door handle until it swung open. He paused, tapped his fingers against the glass vase in his hand and then said, "For the record, I think you are."

A smile slowly appeared on Melanie's face as his words sank in. "Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome."

He waved goodbye and she waved in return. Shaking her head, she stepped back to the computer and made sure she had processed the transaction correctly. Clicking away from the program, she raised the window she had been using to see what results she had gotten. Had she been drinking something at the moment she would have spat it out at the screen.

Every link that stared back at her had to do with werewolves.

**# # #**

"Something was attacked by the buses and we still have school? How does this make sense?" Erica groaned over the PA system's announcement the next morning. Monday's were always a drag but this was worse. They all saw the blood splattered on the back of the bus that morning and it was the topic of conversation in their homeroom classes. If the staff thought that any work was going to get done they were crazy.

"Its school, nothing ever makes sense," Melanie replied, leaning on the locker next to Erica's. She glanced around and licked her lips before lowering her voice. "Anyway, I have this theory—"

"Are you seriously still going on about Scott being a werewolf?" Erica sighed while yanking her history book out of her locker.

"Come on! It makes sense! The speed. The strength. The agility."

"The fangs?" Erica cut in. Melanie glared. "Mels, come on. There are _no_ such things as werewolves."

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain Jackson's locker door?" Melanie asked, motioning to the dented metal across the hall.

"A prank," Erica replied, closing her own and secured it with her locker.

"The bus?"

"Prank," Erica replied, walking away. Melanie hurried to catch up. With Erica standing at 5'8" and Melanie only at 5'2" she had to increase her walking pace to fall into step.

"But Erica—"

"Remember you thought that Mr. Harris was a vampire?" Erica asked. Melanie twisted her mouth to the side. Of course she remembered. She spent the entire last year following him around between classes to see how he fared in the sun and if he avoided anything garlic-y. It was probably the reason he wasn't too fond of her. It didn't help that she just didn't get Chemistry.

"In my defense," Melanie said, holding up her finger, "no one else around here dresses that well and come on! He's so pale! He had to be a vampire!"

"Well, he isn't and Scott's not a werewolf," Erica replied, stopping by a classroom. She divided half of the books in her hands and gave them to Melanie. "I'll see you at lunch, alright? And I want to talk about something else other than your theories." When Melanie opened her mouth she quickly added, "_or lacrosse_." Melanie pouted and Erica patted the top of her head before turning and walking off. Melanie made a face at her back and entered the classroom.

She dropped her books and backpack down on one of the empty black-topped desks and glanced forlornly at a beaker sitting in front of her. She wished Erica was in this class with her. While they were in the same level Chemistry class it was split into two sections and, unfortunately, they were split up. If only they were together. Erica could be taking notes for the both of them while she continued her werewolf research.

She was up the entire previous night pouring over everything she could find. It couldn't be a coincidence that Stiles asked for her book and was looking for _werewolves_ specifically. It couldn't be a coincidence that twice in the past week Scott and Stiles disappeared from the lacrosse field in a hurry. _And_ it couldn't be a coincidence that Scott freaked out at a party that Lydia held on the night of a full moon. The only thing that could properly joss her idea would be that Scott was actually _that_ weird. But even she had to give him some credit.

Begrudgingly, she flipped open her notebook and tried to copy down the pictures that Mr. Harris was drawing on the board but she just couldn't figure out what they were for. There were some circles with plus signs in them and some circles that were blank and squiggles and lines and arrows. She wasn't sure if he was actually trying to teach or mess up her grade even more. As much as she tried to focus on what he was doing and saying she couldn't help but let her eyes travel over to Scott. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Pointy ears. Fangs. Some extra hair. But all she saw was the same ol' Scott McCall.

Her eyes then moved over to Stiles as she tapped her pen against her paper. He was in on it too, she was sure of it. Why else could he be so jumpy whenever she asked about him. For all he knew she was just being concerned. (Well, she was concerned, but he was being too weird about everything for her concern to not expand. It was his fault, really.) But did that mean he was a werewolf too or was he just helping Scott out?

She set down her pen and rubbed the side of her head. She was beginning to get a headache trying to figure it all out. Her lack of sleep definitely wasn't helping. She gave her head a shake and picked up her pen again. _C'mon, Mel, concentrate. You have to pass this class!_ But how was anyone to concentrate when Thing 1 and Thing 2 were whispering so loudly? She sat up straight to hear them better and caught something about 'blood on the door', 'animal blood', 'rabbit', and 'remember'. Apparently that was enough for Mr. Harris to hear too for he turned around and commented on Stiles's lack of whispering.

"I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?" Mr. Harris said, an eyebrow arching high.

"No," Stiles protested, as if that was the worst idea in the world.

Melanie snickered as Mr. Harris pointed at them and urged them to move and said, "Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much." She pushed her books aside and lifted her backpack off the table as Stiles plopped down next to her.

"You two can't whisper for shit," Melanie whispered as Stiles got situated. "If you need a rabbit recipe my dad can get you something."

"Are you Crowes well versed in the consumption of game?" he asked.

"Yes, in fact, our preference is elk," she replied and stuck out her tongue.

Silence settled around the room but it didn't last long. One of the girls at the front shouted about people finding something and soon they were all crowding around the window to get a closer look. They watched as some EMTs wheeled someone out on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance in the parking lot.

"That's not a rabbit," Melanie heard Scott whisper as the body moved closer to the ambulance. She watched intently only to jump and scream with the rest of the class when the man on the stretcher popped up and screamed himself.

"This is good, this is good. He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that," Stiles rationed. Melanie peeked over her shoulder to see that he was directing his comment towards Scott rather than the rest of the room. She pursed her lips.

How interesting.

**# # #**

"Do people realize they're wasting their own money to continue a stupid joke?" Melanie asked, pausing her shuffle down the cafeteria line to see yet another Hershey kiss on the floor. "Unfortunately they're aiding in making me fat…"

"You're preaching to the choir," Erica grumbled. She had been reaching out for a muffin but then changed her mind and grabbed an apple instead. She dropped it on her tray and moved down to the cash register, her tray covered in food.

"If you came running with me a few mornings—"

"I already told you, I'm not getting up at the butt-crack of dawn." Erica paid for her food and waited for Melanie to do the same. They stood near the end, looking for a place to sit, and spotted an empty circle table in the corner. They made a beeline for it and sat down before anyone else could take the spot. "I don't even know how _you_ do it. You're evil in the mornings if you haven't eaten."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Melanie grumbled.

"Mellie, I still have the mark on my back when you kicked me out of my bed," Erica said with a laugh.

"You were taking up too much space!" Melanie cried out, as if that made all the sense in the world. "Anyway, I was talking about—"

"Hey, I said no lacrosse or werewolf stuff," Erica interrupted her as she poked at the meat on her plate.

"No! Not that! It's about the guy that got slashed up," Melanie said, waving her hand. "People are saying it's a mountain lion that attacked him. Can you believe that? A mountain lion getting this far at school?"

"It's no wonder they have a curfew," Erica commented.

"A bit too strict of one, if you ask me," Melanie agreed, popping some curly fries into her mouth. She had started putting another in her mouth when a sight caught her. Tilting her head she peered across the cafeteria. "Hey Eri, turn around and tell me what you see."

Popping up an eyebrow, Erica turned around and her eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria. Then her head, too, tilted as she stared at a table that was occupied by Allison, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Stiles. She turned back around. "That's weird," she muttered. "Since when do Lydia and Jackson and Danny sit with them?"

"That's the same thing I was wondering," Melanie replied. "Even if it was just because of Allison, Jackson would rather chew off his arm than do anything with Scott."

"Yeah, but it's Lydia. She can convince someone to kill someone else if she wanted to." Melanie gave Erica a look. "Okay, I'm exaggerating, but you know what I mean."

"Somehow I don't think you are," Melanie replied, glancing at the table again to see Stiles staring intently at Lydia. Erica caught her look and looked again. When she turned back around she slumped in her seat and pushed her tray away. "Eri—"

"I should just give up, shouldn't I?" she asked. "Who'm I kidding, thinking he'd like me or notice me? He's so freakin' obsessed with Lydia, no one else exists."

"And that's _his_ fault, _not_ yours," Melanie said sternly, pushing Erica's tray closer to her. "It's his fault that he can't see how wonderfully amazing you are and is chasing after someone who's in love with someone else. One day he'll see just what he's missing and he's gonna regret it for the rest of his life."

Erica made a noncommittal grunt and still refused to touch her food. Melanie started to say something else when Erica suddenly sat up straight. Screwing up her face in confusion, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Tossing her head to one side to move her hair out of the way, she brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" she said, plugging in her other ear. "Oh, yeah, she's right here." She removed the phone from her ear and held it out to Melanie.

"Hello?" Melanie answered, confusion evident in her voice.

"Yes, is this Melanie Crowe?" a deep voice asked.

"This is she."

"Melanie, hi, this is Dr. Deaton. I've been trying to contact you but it seems there is something wrong with your phone?"

Melanie sat up straighter in her seat. "Oh, yeah! I'm sorry about that. I had a little mishap with a pool. I should be getting a new phone soon. Anyway, are you calling about the puppy?"

"Yes, I am. I just wanted to let you know that he is in good health and that no one has claimed the little guy. Enough time has gone by that you can come and claim him if you have—"

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes!" Melanie cheered into the phone before he could say anymore. "When can I pick him up?"

"This afternoon if that is enough time for you."

"Yes, that's perfect! Thanks so much! I'll be there!" Melanie hung up the phone and squealed in excitement. "The dog is mine!"

"Your mom and dad are just going to let you keep him?" Erica asked.

"They will once they see his little face," Melanie rationed.

As soon as school let out Melanie rushed to the Animal Clinic, quietly thanking that they didn't have lacrosse practice that afternoon due to Coach having a prior commitment. Something about a whistle emergency. She didn't care; once lunch ended her mind became attached to getting the puppy as soon as possible.

She pulled into the parking lot and jammed on the brakes. She put the car in park, activated the emergency break, and jumped out of the truck. If the sleeve of her jean jacket hadn't gotten caught on the door she would have forgotten to close the door in her haste to get inside.

"Dr. Deaton! I'm here, I'm here. I'm ready for my puppy!" Melanie said breathlessly as she burst inside.

"I can see that," Dr. Deaton said with a little laugh. "He's over here," he continued, motioning her to a table that the little dog was sitting on. "He's had all of his shots needed and he's gained some weight so he's healthy enough to be taken home."

"Yay!" Melanie cheered, punching her fists into the air. "Ohh, I can't wait to take this little guy home," she cooed, scratching behind the puppy's ears. She looked up when she heard the bell rang and smiled when Scott came rushing in. "Scott! Scott! Guess what? I can take the puppy home!" she said excitedly, pointing to Nova as if he couldn't see the little dog. Nova's head turned to the side as he stared at Scott but then broke his gaze to turn and lick at his paw.

"Oh – that's great, Mel!" Scott said with a smile. "Have you thought of a name for him?"

"Hmm…" Melanie tapped her chin as she looked the puppy up and down. He tilted his head back and stared at her with his big brown eyes. "Nova!" she announced, snapping her fingers. "That's your name, isn't it Nova? Yes it is!" Standing straight, she turned to Scott to ask him a question but then noticed the stunned expression on his face. Whirling around she noticed a police officer standing at the door.

"Hey! I see somebody's ready to get their stitches out," Dr. Deaton said to the large german shepherd that ambled through the door. Melanie scooped Nova off of the table as his tail began to wag at the bigger version of himself.

"Hey there Scott, you stain' out of trouble?" Sheriff Stiinski greeted him as he removed his sunglasses.

"Yeah," Scott replied shortly.

"Hi Mr. Stilinski," Melanie greeted him. "Look at my new dog! His name's Nova! Say hi, Nova." Melanie lifted his paw and waved it at the sheriff.

"Hello, Melanie," he said with a chuckle. "Hello to you too, Nova."

"What happened with that one?" Melanie asked, nodding to the german shepherd on the table.

"Oh, he just needed some stitches to help heal a little bite, he'll be fine," Sheriff Stilinski replied. Then he turned his attention to Dr. Deaton. "Hey, while I'm here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about? Sacramento can't determine an animal."

Backing away from the table and closer to Scott, Melanie exchanged a look with him. What kind of pictures could they be talking about?

"This was the guy who was attacked on the bus?" Dr. Deaton asked, causing both their eyes to widen.

"Yeah, and there were wolf hairs found on Laura Hale's body."

"A wolf?" Scott asked. When Sheriff Stilinski looked at him he continued, "Um, I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for sixty years."

"Wolves are highly migratory," Dr. Deaton replied, still looking at the pictures. "They could have wandered in from a bordering state." He lifted his eyes to Sheriff Stilinski and pointed at a picture of the attacked man's face. Melanie couldn't resist the urge to step closer and see. "See these scratches here? They're claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat."

"So, what do you think, it's a mountain lion?" Sheriff Stilinski asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Deaton replied. "A wolf could chase its prey. Hobbling it by tearing at the ankles…and then the throat."

**# # #**

"Welcome to your new home, little guy!" Melanie cheered as she shut her car off in her driveway. Nova looked up at her from the small bed he was sitting on in the passenger seat. On the floor sat his new leash, bowls, collar, and a bag of dog food. "Don't worry; Mom may seem to not like you but she'll fall in love with your face as I did."

She got out of the car and scooped Nova into her arms. Maybe if she walked in with just him they wouldn't be upset that she chose to keep the dog without asking them. No one could turn away that face! Taking a deep breath, she exited the truck and went up to her house, a white Victorian style with a smattering of French windows. The lights on inside cast a golden glow on her yard and she could see her mom and dad talking in the breakfast nook. Her fast moving steps slowed as she got close enough to read the expressions on their faces and then she stopped and sighed. Their faces appeared tense and tight. They had obviously been arguing about something or were in the middle of it.

"Well, this will stop all the fighting," she declared, kissing the top of Nova's head. She marched up the front stairs, stepped past the wraparound porch and walked into her home. She closed the door with her foot behind her and called out a greeting. The hushed whispers that floated from the nook stopped and were replaced by footsteps. "Surprise!" she cried out once her parents turned the corner. "This is Nova!"

"Melanie," Arabella said, stopping short. "Where did you get that?"

"Remember, I found him about a week and a half ago. Or was it two weeks?" she shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Anyway! No one claimed him so now he's ours! Isn't that great?"

"I've always wanted a dog," Laurence said, stepping forward to take the dog out of Melanie's arms.

"Sweetie, you have to take it back," Arabella said, clasping her hands together. "We don't have time for a dog."

"Yeah we do!" she protested. "Some days you don't go into work until late. And I can take care of him before school and dad can come home on his break and I can take care of him after lacrosse!" She stuck out her lower lip. "Please?"

"Melanie," Arabella sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We can't."

"C'mon, Bell," Laurence said, taking Nova out of Melanie's arms and held it up to his wife's face. "Look at him!" Nova stuck out his small tongue and licked her nose.

"We do not. Have time. For a dog," she said sternly, looking Laurence in the eye.

"You always said that I could take on more responsibilities around the house," Melanie jumped in. "And this is the biggest one. Please, Mom, please? I've always wanted a dog! Please!" She dropped to her knees and grabbed Arabella's arm. "I'm _begging_ you!"

"Melanie, get off the floor," Arabella ordered. Melanie jumped to her feet and tucked her hair behind her ear. "We'll talk about this later. For now, let's eat," she said. She shot Laurence a look and turned on her heel.

Once she disappeared around the corner Melanie and Laurence high-fived. "Don't worry; I'll work on her," he said.

"Hey, Dad, wait," Melanie said, grabbing his arm. "What were you two fighting about earlier? I saw you through the window."

"It's nothing, Hummingbird," he replied, kissing her forehead. "We just got into a little disagreement. Nothing to worry about." He set Nova down on the ground and he immediately started to sniff around the house. "Where's the rest of his stuff?"

"Stuff? What stuff? He has stuff?" Melanie asked with a nervous laugh.

Laurence gave her a look. "In the truck, right?"

"Right," Melanie conceded.

"Go help your mother with dinner; I'll get the rest of the supplies."

Melanie patted Nova on the head and went into the kitchen to help her mother carry dishes to the table. Arabella was muttering something under her breath but brushed Melanie off when she asked about it. She dropped the subject and carried silverware over to the table.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - And here's the next chapter! It's a nice long one for you guys. What did you think? For the whispering part, in the show I understand they have to talk loud enough for the boom mics to pick up their "whispered conversations" but I always wondered how no one else overheard their conversations. Thus, I decided to poke fun at it. What do you think about the woman coming into the shop, who do you think it is? Also, to explain the chapter title, "strange bedfellows" is an idiom meaning two groups of people who normally wouldn't be seen together are connected by a certain activity. In this case, Lydia and Jackson sitting with Scott and Stiles. Thanks for the reviews and favs and alerts! Please leave a review.


	8. Wolfsbane of My Existence

**Chapter 8: Wolfsbane of My Existence**

The week went by at a sluggish pace with hardly any news about the mountain lion attack, save for the bus driver dying. That put a damper on a few days of school but things went back to normal after the days passed. The curfew enforced by the police department was enforced then more than ever, to the teens' chagrin but they dealt with it and moved on with their lives as best as they could. Melanie, however, couldn't move on.

Between looking for more wolf facts and werewolf information she had an increase in intensity with lacrosse practice to deal with, Erica still being upset over Stiles's infatuation with Lydia, a new puppy to potty train, parents that seemed on constant edge with one another, that _stupid_ picture that was still going in circulation and the fact that Isaac was hiding something from her. She hadn't expected him to tell her outright what was going on even while she had suspicions but she felt they were on their way to being friends so that had to count for something, right?

She waved at him in the halls and stopped to chat whenever she had a second. Half of their French classes were spent working on their project and the other half was spent talking about lacrosse or the goings on around school or a bit about their families. Hell, he even started waiting for her to leave the locker room so they could walk to the field together. So why didn't he trust her? Not that she was only into their tentative friendship _for_ the trust to get information out of him but it was beginning to get frustrating.

Added atop of that frustration was that Scott and Stiles were _still_ acting funny. They were having more whispered conversations in the middle of the school than normal. They lurked around corners and appeared jumpy. Scott even had a few outbursts in classes that he never had before, almost as if his patience was being tested or that something was bothering him. Melanie was sure, she was _sure_ she knew why but the more she thought about it the more she knew she didn't have anyone to talk to about her suspicions that wouldn't think she was crazy. Erica already didn't want to hear about it and if she tried her parents? They would probably send her to get her head examined. No that she blamed them.

It did sound crazy. Werewolves running around beneath people's noses, attacking people in the middle of the night, causing mass hysteria and a curfew to come into effect and pt stress on everyone's heads. That was ridiculous. But then the idea of a werewolf being on the lacrosse team and helping them kick off their newest season. That was even _more_ ridiculous but to Melanie there was no other logical explanation. And that was it, in a nutshell. None of this was logical. But maybe sometimes logic just couldn't be used in some instances in life and maybe this was one of them.

But that didn't mean that reason couldn't come into play. Just like there had to be a _reason_ that the leather jacket wearing boy that Melanie had seen a few times before was slowly making his way through the hall. She had to blink rapidly to be sure that she wasn't seeing things but with each blink he didn't disappear. What in the world was he doing at _school_? In the middle of the day? Looking like _death_?

She ducked behind a wall nearby and watched as he slowly approached Jackson. His pale, gaunt skin looked worse beneath the fluorescent lights of the school. Not that did any favors for the rest of them but he looked worse.

She squinted, trying to read their lips but it was hard, especially with Jackson's natural body movements as he spoke. She could only imagine he was making fun of the leather-bound boy. He said something for him to walk away but Jackson grabbed onto him, only for the boy to slam him up against his locker. At first Melanie felt a swell of pride for someone was _finally_ able to put him in his place but that was quickly replaced with sympathy for him. Even someone as evil as Jackson didn't deserve that shit.

Melanie's eyes widened briefly and she ducked behind the wall when he turned around. She held her breath, doing her best to stay silent as her mind raced, wondering how in the _world_ someone could just easily walk into the school like that. Didn't they have security or something around the school to prevent that? She made a mental note to check up on it later because it obviously wasn't working now. So what was she supposed to do? Go running to the principal about how there was someone in the school who she was sure had malicious intent without proof? Fat chance. Even she wasn't stupid enough to go after him without proof.

So she waited. She went through her day as best as she could, trying to act as normal as she could although she waited and expected for something to happen or for the guy to barge right into her class and…well, she hadn't gotten that far with the thought. He could do anything since he was in school already and, apparently, looking for Scott. She went through her classes, she studied with Erica, she worked on her project with Isaac, she ate lunch with Scott and Stiles (Erica was now avoiding anything Stiles related, which included eating in the lunchroom), and she even spent some time talking with Allison about their mutual love of Arcade Fire and running.

It wasn't until the last bell ring of the day that jump started everything. She had almost forgotten all about the strange guy in the halls by the time the day was over. Since they didn't have lacrosse that day she was ready to go straight home and play with her new puppy. Erica was going to come over later, she had a consultation to see if there was any way she could combat the weight gain due to her medicine.

"So Scott's studying with Allison today?" Melanie asked as she walked with Stiles through the hall of the school towards the exit. They had managed to park next to each other that morning so they decided to walk out to their cars together.

"If he's going to do anything interesting in his life that I can live through, he won't be studying with her," Stiles replied.

"Why? What else would he be doing?" she asked.

He stopped walking and she almost ran into him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nooooo…?" she stretched out.

"What do you do when you're studying?"

Her eyes swiveled in their sockets as she thought. "Er…I study," she replied. "Well, I _try_. It doesn't usually work out."

"That's–no! That's _not_ what's going to be happening today!" Stiles replied, holding up his finger. "Something is going to happen! Something is _going_ to happen! I need a good story to live off of."

Melanie snorted. "I think you need a cold shower, that's what you need," she said, pushing open the door with her back. "Like, a lifetime of it."

"I probably do, not gonna lie. It'd be a better one if someone joined me."

"Oh my god, you need to stop!"

The two laughed as they went their separate ways, Stiles to his blue jeep and Melanie to her red truck. She got in and buckled herself in and waited for Stiles to back out of his space so she could fall in behind him. They had barely moved forward in the line when Stiles slammed on his brakes causing a backup. Melanie's hand hovered over her own horn when her peering through her windshield and then through his made her pause.

It was him! It was the guy! He had stepped out in front of Stiles's jeep, causing the backup. Was he trying to get Stiles in an accident? Her mind raced with possibilities as to why he was there while the rest of her body moved on autopilot. And apparently autopilot was throwing her car in park, grabbing her lacrosse stick, and rushing towards the guy who was now surrounded by Scott and Stiles Which, she thought once her brain finally caught up with her, wasn't too smart if he had a gun on him.

"Help me put him in your car," Scott was saying when Melanie rushed over.

"Stiles, did you hit him?" Melanie asked, clutching her lacrosse stick in his hands.

Stiles whirled around; his mouth gaped like a fish. His eyes bounced around as he tried to think of something to say. "No! He just ate some…bad sushi. Real bad food poisoning," he replied.

"Cut the crap," Melanie ordered. She used her stick to point at the guy on the ground. "He's been following you around for ages, hasn't he? He was– he was at Lydia's party! He was at a lacrosse practice one time! He was even at our last game! What is he, some sort of pedophile?"

The sick boy managed to glare at her at her question and she visibly flinched as Scott dragged him over to the passenger side of Stiles's car.

"No, Mel, he's not, we know him," Stiles replied, running a hand over his hair while backing away from her. Her hands tightened on the shaft of her crosse. She hated it when they did that. She was just so tired of it. "It's just complicated, okay? But we got it under control—"

Melanie stepped towards him. "You think you can control a werewolf?" she blurted out, making Stiles stop in his tracks amidst the honking of the horns. Now he _really_ looked like a fish gasping for air.

"Wh-what are you—?" his question was cut off when she pressed the handle of her lacrosse stick against his neck and shoved him against the door to his car.

"Don't try to smooth talk your way out of this, Stilinski. You may be as slick as butter when you need to be but not about this." Dropping her voice she said, "I think I know what's going on. And if I'm right…I can help you."

"Mel, you don't want to get involved."

She held his gaze and then motioned to her stick. "I kind of already am, aren't I?" More honks shot out around them.

"This isn't like you thinking Mr. Harris is a vampire."

"I know." Despite her heart hammering in her chest she managed to crack a smile. "This is real." She released him and dropped her stick to her side.

"…_Fine!_ Just…get in your car and follow me. And don't! Say! Anything!"

"Aye aye, captain!" Melanie saluted him and backed away so Stiles could get into his jeep. She jogged over to her truck, threw her lacrosse stick into the back, and then got into the driver's seat, managing to get buckled up at light speed to follow Stiles out of the congested parking lot. Her hands shook against the steering wheel and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm down her nerves. She had gotten herself into shit before but this one had to take the cake.

She followed Stiles closely as they drove down the road. The silence in her car had gotten to her and she needed something to drown out her heavy beating heart. She tried tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel but that didn't help. She tried the radio but after a long string of commercials she switched to a CD. But then _that_ didn't work, she couldn't get lost in the music as she usually did, so silence became her companion. But it made her even more restless. She couldn't stand silence. It made her antsy; she had to fill it somehow.

Her silent torture was given a reprieve when Stiles pulled over to the side of the road. She pulled in behind him and squinted, waiting to see if something was wrong. Stiles seemed to be waving his arms around and she slumped in her seat. They were having an argument. Great. She began to count cars as she waited for them to get going again, reaching twenty-seven that had passed as she sat there. Whatever argument Stiles and the guy seemed to be having finally ended when the lights appeared on the back of his car and they rolled forward. Melanie pressed her foot against the brakes to take the car out of park and followed close behind them once more.

After a while they pulled over again and Melanie left her car to figure out what was going on. Stiles reported that he didn't have a place to take Derek so they were stuck for a while. Hearing that, Melanie made sure her car was locked, her personal belongings were secure, grabbed her lacrosse stick—"just incase!" she said when Stiles gave her a peculiar look—and jumped into the backseat.

Minutes turned to an hour. The sun had begun to set as they waited for any word from Scott. Stiles texted him a few times and got no answer, which only seemed to frustrate him more than he already was.

"Is he still studying with Allison?" Melanie asked, leaning between the seats.

"Put finger quotes around the word studying, but yes," Stiles replied, rubbing his forehead. "He's going to try and find whatever kind of bullet it was that he was shot with." He jerked his thumb over to the guy—who she finally learned was called Derek Hale—who was resting with his head against the window.

"Oh. Well, that's gonna take a while," she stated.

"No shit."

"Why…is she here?" Derek breathed.

"Because she has an overly large nose," Stiles replied.

Melanie stuck her tongue out at him. "For the record it's cute as a button," she told him. She then turned to Derek. "Also because Thing 1 and Thing 2 have a _horrible_ time at whispering and they were being freakishly weird for weeks. They can't cover tracks so I just put two and two together to figure out what was going on. It also helps that I'm a walking talking Supernatural encyclopedia."

"Wait, how did _you_ find out but Jackson is still in last place over this whole thing?" Stiles asked, turning around.

"Because it's _Jackson_." Melanie rolled her eyes. "That should tell you something. Have you ever seen him in the library? He's not dumb but he's not entirely logical." She paused. "Y'know, that explains why he is super obsessed with Scott. Like, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy level of creepy. Circa _Half-Blood Prince_."

Stiles didn't acknowledge her comment. Instead he picked up his phone and dialed Scott's number. She noticed he jabbed his thumbs against the screen. He was clearly agitated. Melanie pressed her lips together and rested her arms on the backs of their seats as she waited for Scott to answer.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles demanded once Scott picked up the phone. "And by the way he's starting to smell." There was a pause in the conversation and Derek slowly shifted his head to glare at Stiles. Leaning forward, Melanie stuck her nose by his armpit and sniffed, nodding her head in confirmation. She shrunk when Derek glared at her as well. "Like death!" Scott's muffled voice was heard on the line, prompting Stiles to ask about his boss which clicked in Melanie's mind that they were going to the animal shelter. She had to bury her face in her arms to keep from laughing out loud. A werewolf in an animal shelter. Things were just writing themselves!

"Alpha?" Melanie repeated, sitting higher up in her seat. "Like…alpha, beta, gamma, delta?"

"Yeah. Only the alpha is a raging werewolf that bit Scott so now he's part of his pack," Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Gimme that," Melanie said, snatching the phone out of Derek's hand. "Scott! You're part of someone's pack?"

"Wha—Mel? What are you doing there?"

"We don't have time for this, McCall. Stiles will fill you in later. What's this I hear about an Alpha wanting you to kill people?" She paused and then gasped. "So _that's_ what you two were talking about with the rabbit in Chemistry!"

Derek pulled the phone out of her hand and growled, "Find that bullet!" before hanging up the phone.

"Didn't have to be so rude," Melanie grumbled. Derek rolled his eyes. "Okay, you two get going. I'll get my car and follow you."

"Why don't we just take you?" Stiles asked.

"I don't want to leave my car sitting on the side of the road."

"It's a hunk of junk! People are going to think it broke down…rightfully so." She smacked him on the back of the head. It may be a hunk of junk but it was _her_ hunk of junk and she was proud of it. But he did have a point so she sat back and got comfortable as he started up the car again.

**# # #**

Stiles found the key where Scott had told him it was left and he unlocked and opened the door as Melanie tried to help Derek inside but it was hard due to him not wanting to be touched and her being so short compared to him he couldn't rest his weight on her. But she tried so it was a win in her books. Stiles turned on the light and Derek collapsed against a pile of dog food bags. Barking dogs could be heard in the distance. A ding sounded and Stiles reached into his pocket to check his phone.

"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek and Melanie replied in unison, although Melanie spoke with massive amounts of 'duh!' dripping off her words.

"He has to bring me the bullet," Derek continued.

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"Because I'm going to die without it."

"Who would have a wolfsbane bullet?" Melanie asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"A hunter," Stiles replied. Melanie made a face. "A _werewolf_ hunt—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupted him. "I mean…you can't handle wolfsbane without proper precautionary measures. The toxins can soak through the skin. Don't even _think_ about ingesting it. Which means it had to be handled by someone who knew what they were doing but…" her words slowly trailed off and her face morphed into an expression of absolute horror.

"What? What is it?" Stiles demanded.

"Flowerworks," Melanie whispered.

"What? Your flower shop?"

"Yeah. " She licked her lips and gulped. "Last Sunday…a woman came in…asking if we carried any wolsbane, which is stupid because of how poisonous it is. I mean, why would you make a bouquet just to kill someone with it? I mean, I guess if you had a _grudge_— "

Stiles grabbed her shoulders. "Mels! Focus!"

"Right, sorry! Anyway, a lady came in asking if we had it. And I told her no and I told her _why_—it being poisonous and all—and I mentioned the toxins and side-effects and stuff." She slowly shook her head. "I didn't…I never thought…"

"What, so…so someone made a bullet _out of_ wolfsbane?" Stiles demanded.

Melanie slowly nodded. "Or…or soaked one in its toxins, yeah." They turned their heads to look at Derek who was staring hard back at them. "That's…that's not food poisoning," she muttered. Stiles let go of her and hurriedly sent a text on his phone as Melanie approached Derek. His heavy eyebrows were lowered as he watched her getting closer. She knelt by his side and lightly touched his arm. He jerked it away, of course. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought it was just a random question."

Derek didn't reply. Not that she thought he would. He was getting worse by the minute. All color seemed to have drained from his face. She knew for humans wolfsbane could kill fast but he seemed to be more resilient. The werewolf powers had to come into play. As concerned as she was she couldn't help but be extremely fascinated with him.

"Let's get him inside," she said as she stood. "It wouldn't help us if we all got arrested while he's dying."

"Yeah, alright," Stiles replied. They both grabbed one of Derek's arms and pulled him to his feet. Shuffling beneath his weight, they entered the animal clinic through a back and took him into an operating room. Stiles turned on a light once they entered the room. Derek pulled away from them and tugged off his shirt.

"Whoa," Melanie uttered, staring at his bare upper body. It was impressive, even if he did have weird black lines running up his arm and his skin was as pale as paper. She couldn't help but stare.

"Mel," Stiles admonished, slapping her on the arm.

"Sorry," she said, turning her eyes away, biting down on her lip to keep from smiling. She didn't need Stiles making fun of her and it was in bad taste to stare at the physique of someone dying.

"If the infection reaches my heart it'll kill me," Derek relayed before moving around the room to find something.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles asked. Now it was Melanie who slapped his arm. If her ogling wasn't going to help matters his sarcasm wasn't either.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time…last resort," Derek replied.

"Which is?" Stiles asked.

Derek didn't reply right away. He opened a cabinet door and then knelt to picks something up. Melanie's head tilted at the large tattoo in the center of his back, three connected spirals. But then her eyes widened when he whirled around with a blade.

"You're gonna cut off my arm," he replied.

Melanie made a face. "That's…kinda…drastic," she pointed out. Derek ignored her as he grabbed a piece of blue stretchy plastic and held it in his mouth.

"What if you bleed to death?" Stiles demanded.

"It'll heal if it works," Derek said as he tied the blue plastic around his arm.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?"

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the _blood_."

Derek dropped his arm and glared at Stiles.

"He's a bit squeamish with that sort of thing," Melanie explained.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek asked incredulously.

"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Stiles replied.

Derek, clearly frustrated at the point, threatened for Stiles to cut off his arm unless he wanted his head chopped off. He grabbed Stiles by the collar of his jacket which made him change his mind real fast. Despite the tense situation Melanie giggled at his changing tune but stopped when Derek puked…black blood?

"Sick!" she cried out, watching it splatter against the ground.

Derek relayed that it was his body trying to heal. Melanie's guess was that his organs were starting to shut down, either way they didn't have much time left so Derek ordered Stiles to saw off his arm. Melanie covered her eyes. She didn't want to watch the blood bath. Her muscles tensed when she heard Stiles pick up the handsaw and the blade start to whirl. Any second she would hear it ripping through flesh and—

"Stiles?" Scott's voice called out. The whirring of the blade stopped and Melanie removed her hands from her eyes.

"Scott?" Stiles repeated.

Scott burst into the room and, rightfully so, freaked out at the sight of Stiles holding the saw against Derek's arm. Stiles let go of the saw and laughed in relief. Scott then dug into his pocket and pulled out the wolfsbane bullet, handing it over to Derek. But before he could do whatever it was he was going to do with it, he fell over, dropping the bullet. It rolled and fell down a small grate on the floor. Scott rushed for it while Stiles and Melanie began shaking Derek to get him to wake up.

"Come on, get up," Melanie muttered, shaking Derek's head from side to side but nothing happened.

"Please don't kill me for this," Stiles muttered and then punched Derek's cheek. It got him to wake up but Stiles recoiled as he held his aching hand.

"I could have told you that wouldn't work," Melanie said as they helped Derek to his feet.

"Why didn't you stop me then?" Stiles demanded.

Melanie shrugged. "People have to learn from their mistakes, right? Even the stupid ones."

Derek got to his feet and moved over to the table. He bit the top off the bullet in an amazing show of strength and dumped the gunpowder on the table. He lit it with a lighter and, once it burned off, dumped the powder onto his wound. But that wasn't the end of it. He then proceeded to stick his finger in the wound. His scream caused Melanie to start screaming, more out of shock at what she was seeing rather than sympathy pain.

Derek fell to the floor, writhing in pain as he continued to scream, a wolf-like growl rumbled in his chest at one point. They watched in awe as blue smoke lifted from the wound and his skin reverted back to normal before their eyes. The bullet and the bullet wound disappeared.

"That was…_awesome!_" Stiles cried out. Melanie nodded her head. She couldn't have said it better herself.

"Okay, we saved your life. Now you can leave us alone," Scott said firmly. "And if you don't I'm going back to Allison's Dad and tell him everything—"

"Allison's Dad?" Melanie repeated.

"He's a hunter, long story," Stiles said with a wave of her hand.

"I knew I didn't like her," Melanie said, snapping her fingers. "I mean, her Dad's kinda hot but…" she stopped talking at the incredulous look on Stiles's face.

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek demanded. "You think they can help you?"

"Why not?" Scott asked.

"Probably because they want to kill you," Melanie cut in. When they all turned to look at her she held up her hands and mimed locked her lips together.

"C'mon, Mel, I'll drive you back to your car," Stiles said. She nodded and followed him out, glancing over her shoulder to look at Scott. Sighing, she turned back around and walked out of the room. "Well…welcome to the wonderful world of werewolves," he joked as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

She managed a laughed. "Try saying that five times fast."

**# # #**

It was late by the time Melanie got home that night. Her mind still hadn't caught up to what exactly she had just witnessed and it didn't have time to process it either for as soon as she stepped through the front door of her home her ears were assaulted with the noise of her parents yelling at one another. Again.

"This isn't my fault, Bell!" Laurence yelled.

"_You're_ the one who gave her that truck in the first place! I should have never let you do it!" Arabella yelled back.

"I had it all checked out before I gave it to her. If it weren't drivable I wouldn't have given it to her!"

"Well that's easy to say but she's still missing!"

"No, I'm not, I'm right here," Melanie replied, entering the kitchen. She had barely set her backpack down when Arabella ran forward and hugged her but she wasn't too happy with her parents at the moment to hug them back. She was supposedly missing and the only thing they do is fight with one another instead of look for her? "My car ran out of gas and I walked to find a place nearby. Went back, called a tow truck, went _back_ to the station got gas, and came here." As soon as the lie came out of her mouth she noticed the holes in her story but she hoped her parents didn't catch them.

"How come you didn't call anyone?" Laurence demanded.

"I have no phone!" Melanie replied. She grabbed her backpack. "Now, if you'll excuse me I want to take a bath and get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"Erica came by but then she left. She wants you to call her," Arabella relayed.

"Okay, I will once I get upstairs."

"No, now." Melanie turned, about to ask what her mother's impatience was for and then she saw the brand new cell phone sitting in her hand. "We were going to surprise you with it today but…" her voice trailed off and a wavering smile appeared on her face. "Anyway, we hope you like it. Your contacts and everything has been backed up."

"Great, thanks!" Melanie took the phone, bent over to scoop up Nova who had been biting at her shoelace and ran upstairs. She fired off a quick text to Erica—_Got a new phone! Sorry I wasn't around, had car trouble. See you tomorrow?_—dropped her things off in her room and went to the bathroom to soak as many of her troubles away as she possibly could. Though the trouble of her parents arguing seemed to be one that was going to stay for good.

* * *

><p><em>an_ - And we have made it to the good part! Now Melanie is in on all the werewolf secrets going around. Or is she? Thanks so much for the reviews and favs and alerts everything. I'm happy to see that you all are enjoying this story. I made a new cover image for the story, please let me know what you think. From here on out the events in the show will be displayed but also new events will be added in. Am I the only one who was surprised they didn't take advantage of a Valentine's Day ep if the first season was set in Feburary? Well, I'm gonna fix that in this fic! There will also be some deviations coming up as well, mainly stretching time between event sequences. You'll see later on. Also, there's more Melisaac goodness in the future as well as her interacting more with Allison, Lydia, Jackson, and even Danny. Please leave a review! Enjoy!


	9. You Aint Lion

**Chapter 9: You Aint Lion  
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The weekend started off with a bang, and not the good kind. Not only did Melanie have to deal with a puppy that was going potty all over the house but on Saturday night reports got out that a man at a local video store had been killed and that Jackson and Lydia had been witnesses to the event. People were still throwing around that it was a mountain lion but through a text conversation with Stiles she learned that it was most likely the Alpha, a werewolf that was trying hard to make Scott a part of his pack.

The constant texting didn't go unnoticed by Erica who had come over to play with her dog and Melanie had to lie and claim that she was getting information about Stiles for her. As much as she claimed she as over Stiles she knew it wasn't true. She still perked up at the sound of his name. It made Melanie sad, seeing her friend stuck in an unrequited love chain. But what else was she going to do but stoke Erica's interest? She couldn't just come out and say she was right about werewolves being in existence. It was one thing that she barged into Scott's new life but it would be another if she just told other people.

Besides, she was still trying to shake the dream she had last night. Well, it wasn't exactly a dream but it wasn't a nightmare either. She was running away from something with red glowing eyes that was constantly chasing her. She found herself atop of the video store, standing at the ledge when the creature cornered her. But then large, black wings popped out of her back and she dive-bombed towards the ground. The monster fell after her and slashed at her back, ripping her wings out in the process and sent her hurtling towards the concrete. She woke up in a cold sweat right before she smacked into the ground with an aching back. She had taken some pain killers and tried to go back to sleep but it stuck in her mind like seeing an older person in a thong.

It was one time she was thankful that school was starting up again so she had something else to put her mind on. That and the conferences that were to be held that Monday night. She was going to have to sit through four of them: History, Chemistry, Algebra, and Economics. Her parents were _not_ going to be happy.

"Why couldn't you have made your existence known earlier so you could save me from having to attend?" Melanie asked Isaac as she lobbed a lacrosse ball at him. She had a free period and wanted to get a little bit of practice in. Erica wasn't in the mood to stand around outside in the cold so she dragged Isaac out with her. "You could have tutored me in my classes. Lord knows Erica tries but we've learned a long time ago that it will only end with us wanting to kill one another."

"I wouldn't have helped you in Chemistry, my grade in that class is tanking too," he replied. "My dad's gonna flip." He cradled the lacrosse ball in his stick a few times before tossing it back.

"Your grade can't be that bad," Melanie said, catching the ball.

"It's a D."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

She threw the ball back. "Well, mine's a C- so we can be flunking buddies." He snorted and caught the ball. "It's a bit weird, though. We have a curfew but they still want us to have conferences? They should just…cancel it all and let us go on with our lives."

"I can only hope," he replied, tossing the ball back. "The whole thing's kinda crazy, isn't it?" he asked, holding the stick in his hands. "Never had something like this happen before."

"There's a first time for everything, right?" she replied, cradling the ball. She licked her lips and before she could stop herself she asked, "But what if it was something else?" She watched as his eyebrows lifted. "Not a mountain lion but something else. Like, say…a wolf?"

Isaac's nose wrinkled. "Wolves aren't from here," he stated.

"What if they migrated?"

"I guess that's possible but I doubt they'd adapt to the kind of weather and conditions we have here."

Melanie hummed and nodded, tossing the ball back. "Well, whatever it is I hope they get it soon." But her words felt hollow. She had an idea of what it was ad she was still a sitting duck about it. What could she, a normal human, do against an Alpha? Scott and Derek were the only ones who could actually do something but that was if the Alpha didn't get control of Scott. Not that they could ask him about it since he was missing that day. Coincidentally Allison was too, which only meant they were together all because it was Allison's birthday.

Melanie had noticed the new necklace hanging around Allison's neck as they arrived at their lockers that morning. She admired it and had said how interesting she thought it was while Allison smiled modestly. It only prompted Melanie to ask what the occasion was and once she was able to deduce that it was Allison's birthday she wished her a happy one and that was that. But of course Scott wouldn't leave it alone. Not that she could blame him, really. If she found out that she could turn into a monster she'd want some resemblance of normalcy in her life too.

"Whatever it is doesn't stop my father from still having me work," Isaac commented, snapping Melanie out of her thoughts. She had to reach out to grab the ball that he threw. She didn't miss the bitterness in his voice.

"You work in a graveyard all by our lonesome? That's like asking to be attacked," she agreed. "By zombies, no less! Doesn't that ever worry you?"

"People coming back from the dead are the least of my worries," he replied.

"True. I suppose the things that people can do while they're alive is much worse."

"Trust me, it is."

"Still, be careful while you're working, alright? I don't want to wake up one morning and hear that a friend has been attacked."

Melanie finally threw the ball back as soon as her words left her tongue. Had she registered the stunned expression on his face she would have waited a few more seconds to throw the ball back but she didn't and it smacked him right in the face. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands as Isaac recoiled. He grabbed at his face with a hand as the ball fell to the ground and rolled harmlessly away from him.

"Oh god! Isaac, I'm so sorry!" she cried out, running over to him. "Are you okay? Oh god, of course you're not! I just threw a lacrosse ball in your face! Here, let me see."

"No, no, I'm fine," he said while turning away from her, still holding his face. "I'm good."

"Let me see," she insisted, reaching out towards him but he brushed her away.

"Melanie, really, it's fine."

She stomped her foot on the grass and huffed. "Isaac! Let me _see_!" She stood on her tip toes, pushed his hand aside and grabbed his face in her hands. She felt his muscles tense beneath her hands but she still turned his head this way and that to see it beneath the sunlight. The skin around his left eye was red and puffy. She guessed the force of the hit would give him a black eye, easy. "I'm so sorry," she wailed, dropping her hands and clasped them together as she fretted. "Here, I'll take you to the nurse. She can get you some ice."

"No!" Isaac cried out, jerking away. Despite the skin around his eye beginning to swell his eyes widened. "No…I-I don't need to go to the nurse. I'm fine. Really. I…I need to go." He reached down, grabbed his backpack, and took off running.

"Issac! Wait!" Melanie yelled after him. "What's going on?" But he didn't respond he just kept running. She threw her arms into the air and growled in frustration. "Why do people keep doing that?" she asked no one in particular. She growled again, grabbed her own bag, and headed into the school. She barely made it inside when she collided with Jackson who had come out of a side hallway. "Oh, sorry," she sighed and then cringed. When why she apologizing when he was the one who walked into her? She was about to take it back when she noticed his face.

He was as pale as he was when he came in that morning, which she was surprised about. Lydia stayed home from school due to the trauma and yet he still came in. It seemed as if the longer the day went on the worse for wear he became. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "Hey…are you okay?" she asked, lightly touching his arm.

Her touch seemed to snap him out of whatever it was that had a hold of him and he wrenched his arm away. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just peachy. Why do you care?"

"Because you look like you saw a dead body or—" she cut off her words as he glared at her and she remembered what actually happened. "Oh."

"_Oh_," Jackson repeated, sneering at her. "Nice, Crowe. Real nice. Don't you have to be annoying somewhere else?"

"Not until three," she replied. He snorted and rolled his eyes. "That was a _joke_, Jackson." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Look. We're teammates now, alright? I just think maybe things would be easier if we got along? Or at least were civil."

"Listen, asswipe. Mind your own fucking business, okay? I'm _fine_. Stop pretending like you suddenly care. Okay? You don't know anything." She pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying "wanna bet?" but that would only get her into more trouble than she was already in.

"Okay, fine, sorry for asking," she muttered, trying to move past him but he slammed his palm on the lockers by her head, cutting off her path.

"And another thing," he hissed, "us being teammates is a fluke at best—"

"You've _seen_ me play!" she protested.

He slammed his palm on the locker again. The metal clang bounced up and down the halls. "A fluke at _best_," he repeated, his hissing intensifying to the point that a little bit of spit hit her face but she didn't dare move to wipe it off. "You don't belong on my team. You never have. And I'm going to make sure others see that." He pushed her shoulder and then stalked off as the bell rang. Students came pouring out of classrooms and entered the quick congesting halls.

Rubbing her shoulder with a shaky hand, Melanie did her best to regain her composure. She spotted Stiles coming out of one of the classrooms and hurried to catch up to him. She heard the trailing end of his conversation with who she guessed was Scott due to his mannerisms.

"…Another random guy is dead and you have to do something about it!" he said. He waited a few seconds and replied, "Something!" He growled and made a face at his phone before dropping his arm. Scott must have hung up.

"Anything?" Melanie asked, lifting her bag higher on her shoulder.

"Nope. Scott's still off on his little adventure," Stiles replied, making finger quotes around the word adventure. "God! This is _not_ the time for him to go romantic boyfriend on us!"

Melanie licked her lips and asked hesitantly, "Stiles can you really—?"

"Blame him?" Stiles interrupted her. "Yes. Yes I can. Because while he's off…doing _whatever_ there's something out there attacking people and he's not even doing anything about it because he's…he's…" he made a noise to substitute a word that he couldn't come up with. "Okay, okay…there's gotta be something we can do in the meantime."

"Maybe we can go find Derek. See what he'd do?" Melanie suggested.

"Hey, whoa, no!" Stiles replied as if that was the dumbest idea in the world. "We're not going to Derek, alright? We can do this without him. We just…we just need an idea of what the thing actually was." He snapped his fingers. "Yeah, yeah, I'll go over to Lydia's after school and see how she's doing. See if she remembers what she saw and then we can meet up and talk it over."

"Wait," Melanie grabbed his arm to stop him from walking. She studied him. His eyebrows were furrowed, he rapidly licked his lower lip, and even though his eyes were trained on her it was as if he was looking past her. No, looking _through_ her. And she had seen that look plenty of times and it was only when he was thinking of one thing. Lydia. "Stiles, tell me the truth…are you going to see Lydia for information…or are you going to see her for personal pleasure?"

"I…I…Mels," he stammered, "…you know how I feel about her."

"Everyone in the goddamn world knows how you feel about her," she replied evenly. She paused and then added, "Except her. And I know how much you care about her, it's sweet in a way but just remember…she _has_ a boyfriend"—she didn't slow her words even though he flinched at the mention of Jackson—"and she's probably still shaken over what happened. So…I know she's vulnerable and all but don't…" she let her words trail off.

"Take advantage?" he filled in. she nodded. "I'd never do that to her," he said firmly. "Never. I just want to make sure she's okay."

Melanie clicked her tongue and watched him again. This time he looked right at her and she nodded. "Okay," she said quietly. "I believe you. Text me if you find anything and I'll be right over, alright?"

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "I will. See you later."

And, like everyone else, he ran away from her too.

**# # #**

"Mel, stop humming!" Erica cried out. Melanie looked up from her phone, dropping it on the floor when she missed the catch. The noise startled Nova awake. He looked around, stretched out on his new pillow, yawned, and curled up to sleep again. Erica was laying on her bed, staring at Melanie as she leaned over from her window seat and picked up her phone.

"Sorry, didn't realize," Melanie muttered, lifting her phone to see if the screen was cracked. Thankfully it wasn't. Her parents would kill her if she broke her phone just after getting it.

"What's gotten you so tense?" she asked, closing her Chemistry book and rolled off the bed. Melanie didn't get a chance to answer before Erica sat behind her on the window seat and began kneading her shoulders with her thumbs.

"Uh…conferences," Melanie replied, looking out the window and down the street. A little kid rode on the sidewalk on his bike as his father walked behind him. Erica's thumb pressed into a knot in her shoulder and she had to bite her lip to keep from groaning out loud. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to burst in and think something weird was going on. "Getting my parents in the same room to talk about how disappointed they are in my grades is not my idea of a good night. They'll probably fight about _that_ too."

"Why _are_ they fighting so much anyway?" Erica asked.

Melanie sighed. "I don't know. Any time they ask they tell me not to worry or they clam up when I walk in the room and put on these fake smiles that it makes me think they were replaced with Stepford wives." She glanced down at her phone again. Still no text from Stiles and no word from Scott. She looked out the window again. She wondered what Derek was up to…

She blinked and looked over her shoulder when she clued in that Erica had stopped moving. Tilting her head, blue eyes locked with brown. She lifted her eyebrows, silently probing Erica for an answer. As always, it worked. "It's just…," Erica started, "…they sound like my mom and dad before they got divorced."

Melanie's stomach dropped as the word landed heavy on her chest. _Divorce_. She had seen it tear apart families and leave broken shambles in their wake. The McCall family was one. Erica's family was another. And then there was Alice who moved away in sixth grade because of it and Paul and Randy who were split up because of their parents… _Divorce_? She couldn't even swallow the word, let alone think it. It couldn't be possible. Not for her mom and dad. They were crazy in love with one another, ever since they met. She hadn't sat through sickeningly sweet stories about them just for them to end up _divorced_.

"Hey," Erica said softly, grabbing Melanie's shoulder to keep her from standing. She wrapped her arms around Melanie's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "That may not be it. It could be something else. Finances. Sick relative. Anything. Don't let me fill your head with worry."

But that wasn't why Melanie had started to get up. No, it was something worse. She saw the red eyes again, outside her window, in the bushes. _In broad daylight! _She had blinked rapidly to be sure she wasn't actually dreaming. She even pinched herself. But the eyes were still there.

"What's wrong?" Erica asked, sensing her change in demeanor.

"Nothing, nothing," Melanie replied. Just then the sound effect noise of a Pokéball opening. She had just gotten a text. Maybe it was finally Stiles.

"Man, you're so jumpy today," Erica commented, leaning backwards to keep Melanie from smacking her head into her chin as she tried to get up. "I'll get it. You need to relax. Have a Snickers or something."

"Wait, Erica, no! I can get it," Melanie said, trying to stop her but Erica used her longer legs to beat her to her phone. She cursed under her breath at the stupid idea of giving Erica her password. They kept no secrets from each other; of _course_ she'd share it but now was the one time she wished she _hadn't_. "Really, it's probably just my dad."

"Why would he text you from downstairs?" Erica asked, already typing in her pincode.

"Because he's…_werid!_" Melanie tried, in vain, to get her phone back but Erica had already gotten in. Melanie gulped when Erica froze. Her face scrunched up in confusion and she pulled the phone closer to her face. And then she saw something in Erica's demeanor crumble and it made an ache appear in her chest.

"Mel…?" she lifted her head and looked over at Melanie who flinched at the expression in her eyes. One that she had never seen since they were nine and fighting over which was better: Barbie or G.I. Joe. She held out Melanie's phone and she took it, glancing at the screen to see what the text said.

**Stiles: **_I need you NOW! Come as soon as you can!_

"Eri—" Melanie started but Erica cut her off.

"Is this why you've been acting weird?" she demanded. "Because you…you and Stiles…?"

"Me and Stiles…? No!" Melanie shook her head. "No, there's nothing…we're not…Erica, you have to believe me—"

"Do you like him?" Erica asked, her voice hitching.

"_No!_"

"You two have been texting a lot recently."

Melanie wanted to grab her hair. "We're just _friends_, Erica. We've always been friends. I've been asking him about you!"

Erica crossed her arms. "For some reason I don't believe you," she replied.

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Mel, you suck at lying!" Erica shot back. Any retort Melanie had died on the tip of her tongue. "I can always tell when you're lying to me. And you're lying right now. There's something going on between you two, isn't there? You know I like him!"

"You said you were over him," Melanie said feebly.

"Because I realize how pathetic it is to chase after him since he's so into Lydia," she spat. "I was trying to get over him with wishful thinking but you know how I felt. How could you do this to me?"

"Eri," Melanie tried, reaching out for her but she slapped her hand away.

"You're just like everyone else, feeding me lies. Do you really think I'm pretty? Or was that a lie too? And all those times you said I wasn't fat and that someone, some day, would want to be with me? Were those all lines too?"

"Of course not!" Melanie replied. "Eri, you're beautiful!" She could feel a prickling sensation behind her eyes. Tears began to rim the bottom lid. Erica's eyes appeared shiny as well. She too was trying to hold back her tears. "It's…it's a big misunderstanding."

"Okay then, what does Stiles need you for?" Erica demanded.

"I…" Melanie stopped herself. She clamped her lips together. She couldn't tell Erica why. As much as she wanted to, she just couldn't. It wasn't her secret to tell. It was Scott's. And Scott was forced to trust her since Melanie barged and shoved and elbowed her way into his…_hairy_ little problem. But he wouldn't trust her anymore if she told. But then Erica wouldn't trust her if she didn't either. "I…I can't…"

"I see," Erica said, all emotion leaving her voice. It was cold. It made Melanie shiver. She grabbed her bag off of Melanie's bed and stomped over to the door before Melanie could move. She wrenched it open and yanked it behind her. Melanie flinched when it closed with a loud slam.

A lump formed in her throat. She either had to go after Erica and try and talk her down or got to Stiles and help him out. She wiped the tears off of her face.

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

**# # #**

"What's goin' on? Did you find something?" Melanie asked, barging into Stiles' room. She stopped and her words softened on her tongue when she clued in on his pacing with his phone up to his ear. He held his finger out to her, signaling that he would be with her in a minute. She nodded and sat down on his bed, placing her backpack on the floor. She rubbed her hands on the knees of her jeans and looked around his gray room, taking in the posters on the wall and the cluttered state.

It was interesting to see into the being that was Stiles Stillinski. His locker seemed to be an extension of his room: a little cluttered, a little crazy, but interesting all rolled into one. She picked up a nearby Rubik's Cube, noticing that it had been completed, and moved the pieces around to try and figure it out herself. It gave her something to do while Stiles talked on the phone.

"Hey, it's me again…. Look, I found something out, I don't what to do, okay? So if you could turn your _phone on, right now_, that'd be great. Or else, I'll kill you! D'you understand me? I'm gonna kill you! …And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you but I'm just gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna…" Stiles finished his sentence with a growl of annoyance, bid Scott goodbye, and hung up his phone, throwing it down on the part of the bed that Melanie hadn't taken up.

"You may want to take up some yoga," Melanie commented, her eyes never leaving the puzzle in her hands, "it'll help you relax some."

"Yeah, well, I kinda can't relax knowing that there's an Alpha werewolf on the loose," Stiles grumbled, dropping down in his computer chair. He finally looked over at her and sat up straight, his eyes softening. "Whoa, wait…are you alright? Have you been crying?" Melanie looked up at him and then hastily wiped at her eyes. They still stung. "God, I don't know what to do crying girls. Do you, ah, want…some ice cream? Yeah! Ice cream always helps!"

"No, Stiles, I'm fine," Melanie said with a wave of her hand. "Got into a fight with a friend, that's all."

He grunted and slumped in his seat. "Yeah, I know the feeling." The knock at the door made him jump in his seat. Melanie glanced over to see Sheriff Stilinski in the doorway.

"Please tell me I'm going to hear good news at the conferences tonight," he sighed.

"Depends on how you define good news," Stiles challenged him.

"I define it as you getting straight As with no behavioral issues."

"Might want to rethink that definition," Stiles said slowly, making a face.

Melanie snorted to keep her laugh in which made her earn Sheriff Stilinski's attention. "Hey sir," she greeted him with a wave.

"Melanie, right?" he asked. "The one with the new dog?"

"Yep, that's me," she replied. "How's the pooch with the stitches?"

"He's doing fine." Sheriff Stilinski leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "What brings you over here?"

"Oh, ah, Stiles…Stiles here was going to help me study for…Chemistry!" Melanie replied, her eyes darting over to his textbook sitting on his desk. "Yeah we have Chemistry…together. The class! Not the, actual thing. I'm not into your son. …Not that he's not a great guy! He's just not my type! A little twitchy for me." She bit her tongue to keep from continuing her rambling and smiled at Sheriff Stilinski. _Man, I really _do_ suck at lying._

"Uh huh," he said slowly. "Just…keep the door open and don't do anything stupid," he directed at Stiles. Stiles spread his arms and widened his eyes as if offended by the notion. Sheriff Stilinski sighed, scratched his head, and walked away.

"…A little twitchy?" Stiles asked.

"Don't be offended. You're like a hyperactive chipmunk," Melanie replied. Stiles nodded his head, as if greeing with her comment. "So what did you find out?"

"Take a look at this," Stiles replied, picking up a phone and holding it out to her.

"Wha—_Stiles_! Did you steal Lydia's phone?" Melanie demanded, snatching it out of his hand. "That's beyond creepy."

"No, I don't take her phone you weirdo!" he replied, offended that she would even think that he would do such a thing. "I forwarded a video to _my_ phone."

"Oh." She paused. "You took a video—?"

"Will you just look at it?" Stiles leaned forward and jabbed the play button. Melanie leaned in so she could see the screen too, resting the side of her head against his. At first what appeared to be a shaky shot turned into something worse. Melanie gasped when she saw…_something_ burst out of the glass windows of the video store and come barreling past the screen. "Uh huh," Stiles muttered, pausing the video at the peak moment when the monster appeared on screen.

"No!" Melanie said, holding the phone closer to her face. "I-I saw this thing!"

Now Stiles was alert. "What? When? _Where?_"

"Outside my window," Melanie replied, now getting to her feet. She began to pace around the room. "I…I was sitting with Erica on my window seat and–and I looked out the window and I saw these…_eyes_! In the bushes. These red eyes were glowing!"

"They were in the _bushes_!?" Stiles repeated.

Melanie nodded. "But…I've seen then before that."

"Where?" Stiles grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Where did you see them?"

"In my dreams!" Melanie replied. Stiles slowly deflated, wondering if he had indeed heard what she just told him. "I know it sounds crazy but—"

"A month ago if you told me I'd be chasing around a werewolf I would have thought you were crazy, but not now," he said evenly. "Tell me about your dreams. Don't leave out any detail."

She relayed every bit of information that she could remember, starting from how the first dream occurred when she was taking a bath and how vivid that one was. She didn't forget to mention the scales that appeared on her legs when she got out and then disappeared a second later. She then spoke about her most recent dream where she was attacked by what she now was sure was the alpha, about how it ripped wings out of her back and sent her plummeting towards her death and how she woke up with her back aching long since the dream faded away.

"That's…very…" Stiles rubbed his lips with his fingers as he tried to find the right word in his fast moving brain. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his short hair.

"Yeah, _very_," Melanie agreed when he didn't say anything. "The odd thing was that it felt so...real, in a sense. Like I knew what I was doing. I already knew how to swim with the fin and I already knew how to use my wings. Like it was part of muscle memory or something."

"Well, we can do things in our dreams we can't do while awake. Like…scale buildings or breathe underwater," Stiles said.

"Yeah but…I dreamed of the Alpha before I knew anything about him. What about that?"

She so badly wanted him to be able to explain that and he looked as if he was searching for an answer but he came up with nothing. Her shoulders dropped with her sigh. Figures. Precognitive dreams were one thing but this? It was just _too_ strange.

The silence that stretched on between them was broken by Stiles muttering about Scott beneath his breath. Her heart ached as she watched him send yet another text. How many was that today? It made her check her own phone to see if Erica responded to one of hers but her inbox was blank as well. It was a bad day for friends, it seemed.

Melanie lowered her phone and licked her lips, taking in Stiles' agitated state. "Can I ask you a question?" He lifted his eyebrows but didn't turn his angry gaze away from the window. That was fine with her; she wasn't sure how she would be able to handle it. "Why are you so angry? Is it that Scott won't answer you or is it that you feel like you're being replaced?" She held her breath after asking the question. It was loaded, she knew, but…it would explain a lot. Why, as far as she knew, he didn't try to get to know Allison. Surely if your best friend found someone the y really liked one would be happy for them but it seemed the longer Scott was interested in her the more agitated Stiles became.

He didn't respond right away. More silence stretched between them. He rubbed his mouth, he tapped his thumbs against one another, he ran his hands through his hair, and he huffed and puffed and changed his position in his chair. She picked up the Rubik's Cube again and tried to crack it, something to break the silence that was starting to strangle her.

"It's not fair." She didn't realize Stiles had spoken for a second, thinking that she had imagined it. He had his forehead propped up on his palm while messing with his phone. He parted his lips and continued speaking. "I've known him…all my life, basically. He's my best friend. _More_ than that he's…he's my brother, y'know? I'd do anything for him. _Anything_. And then…and then she comes along and it's like…"

"Like he has a new best friend?" Melanie filled in the unanswered blank for him.

"She's so great for him, that's…_god_, that's what bugs me. I've never seen him this happy. He likes her _so much_ and…I don't want to stop that but…" his words trailed off as he shook his head. "I don't know what I can do without him. I really don't. He's my only friend."

She ignored the sting at those words and released a breath through her nose. Setting the Rubik's Cube aside she got off the bed, crossed the room, slung an arm around his shoulders and perched herself atop of his knee. His head whipped around so fast she was surprised he didn't have whiplash let alone that his head was still connected with the rest of his body. "Listen," she said gently, "I'm sure you guys have fought before. And you always make up and are still friends, right? With all that's going on I think it's far he has some sort of normalcy before…everything messes up. Before everything gets worse. You don't have to agree but if you guys are friends as you say you are…you'll give him that. However, that doesn't mean I agree with him just…ignoring it all for Allison. Hell, he's acting like a lovesick teen girl if you ask me and it is annoying but…Scott's loyal as loyal can be. He'll come around." Pinching Stiles's cheek with her hand she added, "You're his first love, after all. Nothing can ever come between _that!_" Stiles laughed despite the tight expression remaining on his face. "And besides," she continued, "you do have other friends. You have me. And sweetie, I'm not going anywhere." She paused and then said, "Except for the conferences, but you get what I mean."

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks."

She kissed the side of his head and affectionately rubbed the base of his neck. "Anytime. So, will you be okay?"

"Yeah. I think I'm going to take a look at some of my dad's reports. Maybe there's something in there that we're missing. A clue or something."

"Good, do that. And if you need anything text me and I'll be right over."

She felt a stabbing sensation at those words. She used to always say them to Erica. She looked at her phone again. Still nothing. Was this it? One little misunderstanding and they weren't going to be friends anymore? She thought that Erica would be over it by now. Break down and call her so they can laugh and get past it and move on like nothing ever happened but she should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Life wouldn't make it that easy.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forced a smile, and excused herself to get to the conference.

**# # #**

It felt odd being at school at night. The normal sounds and smells of the school day seemed to empty out with the student body once the bell rang for the day to be over. The stale scent of meat was overlapped by the potent scent of coffee provided for the parents coming in. Shouts and screams that plagued the hallway were replaced with hushed conversations behind closed doors. The students' safe haven was infiltrated and they were all on edge to hear what was to be said.

Melanie had sat through all her conferences and received the same feedback with the subject replaced in each situation—she had a hard time focusing, she tended to give up instead of work her way through the problems, she seemed far away or distracted in class, she was falling behind, and blah blah blah. Her parents sat through the whole thing, asking questions here and there but stayed relatively quiet. She wanted them to speak, to say something. Anything was better than silence. She even half expected them for them to come together and yell at _her_ for once. But that didn't happen. Instead they asked her to be excused and so she found herself sitting on a window ledge in the hall, listening to the rhythmic scratch of the hands of a nearby clock tick away while she waited.

She looked at her phone for the thousandth time that night. Still no response from Erica. She tapped her phone against her knee and kicked her legs out only to tap her heels against the wall over and over again. It became a steady beat which only reminded her of her parents discussing her algebra grades at the moment.

"Music is math," her dad always said whenever she brought back a bombed test. "I don't understand why you can ace music but not math."

Music _wasn't_ math, not to her. Music was raw. Music was taking everything that you could never put into words and put it into a song, into lyrics, into a rhythm and into a melody that, once together, became something so powerful that it made you _feel_.

Besides, music didn't have random numbers thrown in that she had to solve to get to an answer. Music had no answers. And that's why she loved it. It had no right or wrong. It just made you feel. So she took that idea and left a message on Erica's unanswered phone, playing "their song" to let her know how much not speaking was eating her up inside. The last time she felt that pain was when she was told that she wouldn't have a little brother after all the waiting.

Melanie looked at her phone screen again. Still no change. Nothing from Erica, nothing from Stiles, not even anything from Scott to at least them know he was okay. Sure he had werewolf powers and everything but there were hunters out there for crying out loud. He had to be more careful if he wanted to stay alive.

"Hey Isaac," she greeted him without turning her head. His shadow fell across her screen a moment later.

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked.

"Because I still think you're stalking me," she joked. She flashed him a smile and then continued, "Nah, you walk a certain way and I can smell you."

"You can…smell me?" She heard more than saw the confusion on his face.

"It's not that you smell _bad_ or anything. It's just something I noticed. You smell like a combination of wet dirt and Irish Spring soap. It's interesting." She stopped kicking her legs and looked over at him. "How's your dad taking the conferences?"

"As well as I expected he'd take it," Isaac replied, running his hand through his loose curls.

Her nose wrinkled. "So…not well?"

"No."

Melanie nodded her head as if she understood. She did, a little bit. The first and only time she had spoken to Mr. Lahey he seemed…constricted in a way. As if he was holding himself back. As if he had to stay tight and puckered up just in case something leaked out. Something he didn't want her to see. She turned her head to look at Isaac again, look at the bruise that had formed around his eye. She reached out and touched the purpled skin. Isaac flinched under her hand, under her touch, and leaned away.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I just wanted to see. I didn't mean to hit you."

Isaac snorted. "I've had worse," he replied. His gaze was on the lockers but his eyes were far away. Her eyebrows narrowed. What did he mean by that? As if sensing her unasked question he cleared his throat and continued, "Lacrosse hits are pretty hard. I cracked a rib last year. That hurt more than this, don't worry. It's not a big deal."

"Still, I want to make it up to you somehow."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I want to. We're friends, right? That's what we do for each other."

Like last time he seemed to freeze at the word—friends—but then a slow and shy smile appeared on his face. He licked his lips and nodded his head, the smile still remaining.

"I haven't…that is, I don't know how…" He stopped and started his sentence a few times that Melanie eventually had to stop him from talking for fear that he would use up all the oxygen in his body just from trying.

"You've been doing a good job so far," she pointed out, "saying 'hi' and waiting for me after practice and stuff and being supportive." She tucked her hair behind her ear and added, "I really appreciate that. I don't think I would have made the team if it weren't for you."

"Your determination did that, not me," he replied.

"Yeah but if you didn't urge Coach to let me try out he would've kicked me off again."

"I mean…he kinda can't. You have the principal on your side plus its discrimination and—"

Melanie grabbed his hand, gave it a squeeze and said with a little laugh, "Will you please stop downplaying and just say 'you're welcome'?"

He briefly glanced down at her fingers wrapped around his and then looked up at her and said quietly, "You're welcome."

"Isaac!" Mr. Lahey's booming voice bounced off the lockers that lined the hallway. Isaac pulled his hand from Melanie's grasp and dropped down from the window sill, his eyes wide. "Is this is what caused your grades to fall? Been spending time with her?" he jerked his thumb in Melanie's direction, otherwise not giving her the time of day.

"No, that's not it," Isaac replied. "It's just…some classes are hard…"

"You're just not trying hard enough," Mr. Lahey replied. "But don't worry; we'll get you on a tight schedule until you bring them up."

"Uh, great," Isaac muttered, looking down at his feet.

Mr. Lahey crossed his arms. "Aren't you going to thank me for taking time out to help you?"

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, Dad."

Melanie pushed air out of her nose. How could someone like Mr. Lahey treat his own son that way? His last living family member? Surely that news alone would make them _closer_. It wasn't as if it was Isaac's fault that his mother and brother weren't alive anymore. Her fingers curled up into her palms and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from saying something that would only get her into trouble. The longer she held onto her lip the more pressure built up into her chest until she felt as if she were going to explode.

"Melanie?" Melanie let go of her lip, causing her to let go of her breath at the same time all at once. She hopped down from the window as her mom and dad approached. "Are you ready to go?" Arabella asked, lightly smoothing down her daughter's hair.

"Are the conferences over?" she asked.

"Yes. We're going to do anything we can to help you get your grades up," Arabella replied. "After all, you can't continue playing lacrosse if you have bad marks."

"I'm surprised you aren't going to attempt sabotage then," Melanie said dryly. Laurence snorted but turned it into a cough when Arabella glared at him.

"Excuse me," Mr. Lahey spoke up while approaching them, "Did you just say that she is on the lacrosse team?"

"Yes, she's on second line," Arabella replied. "I'm sorry; I don't believe we have met."

"Mom, this is Isaac Lahey and his dad," Melanie said, pointing to them in turn. "Isaac's on the lacrosse team and he was my partner on that French project I was telling you about."

"It's nice to meet you," Arabella said, extending her hand to shake both of theirs. Isaac's cheeks flushed as he shook their hands and then he looked down at his feet.

"Let me get this straight, you let your daughter play on the boy's lacrosse team?" Mr. Lahey continued, ignoring Arabella's extended hand. One of her perfectly plucked eyebrows popped up at the gesture and she slowly lowered her arm.

"Yes we did. She wanted to do it and who are we to stand in her way?" she replied, her voice losing all of its natural warmth in an instant.

Mr. Lahey laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and corrected his stance. "Maybe someone who doesn't want to turn their child gay," he said in a breezy tone.

"Is that possible?" Melanie asked innocently. She always thought that being homosexual or of a different sexuality was something that they were born with. She turned her questioning eyes over to Isaac who had an expression that was a mix of shame and embarrassment. "Isaac?"

"Let's just…go…" he said, grabbing her elbow and pulled her down the hall. He didn't stop until they were both outside in the cool, crisp air. Melanie shoved her hands into her pockets to try and protect them from the bitter cold that had started biting while walking in the direction of her car. No sense in standing out in the cold when she could wait inside with the heat on blast. Isaac rubbed his hand over his face. Red already began pooling in his cheeks due to the temperature. "I'm sorry about him," he said. "He's not…he wasn't always like this."

"It's okay," Melanie said with a shrug. "I mean it's not but…" A white cloud billowed out in front of her face as she sighed. "It's whatever. That's how he is. He'll be the one who has to deal with it." Isaac stared at her. "What? You're looking at me as if I grew a second head." Wait…. She yanked her hands out of her pockets and felt around her neck. "I didn't, did I? Did I get bitten by some weird radioactive spider?"

"No, no, it's not that," Isaac replied, "It's just…my father was being awful…and yet you just go along like…you're so mellow."

Melanie sucked in her breath and let it out slowly while digging in her pockets for her keys. "Well, I try not to let what others say dictate my mood," she replied, "if I did I'd let Jackson keep me off the lacrosse team and _that's_ not gonna happen. I won't give him the satisfaction of driving me away."

Isaac had begun to say something in response but a woman's scream cut him off. Melanie whirled around, heart ramming against her chest as her eyes darted to find the source of the scream. Parents ran around the parking lot, trying to get to their cars and get out of the way of _something_.

"What's going on?" Melanie asked aloud.

"I don't know," Isaac replied.

"Wait, where are my mom and dad?" her eyes bounced from person to person in the parking lot as the scared parents ran by. "Did they come out yet? Mom! Dad!"

"Wait, Mel, no!" Isaac called out. He grabbed her hand and yanked her back to stop her from running. "We don't even know what it is!"

"But—"

"You could get hit! Come on!"

Tugging her hand, he began to run in the opposite direction of the school, towards the back of the parking lot. She had to increase the amount of steps she took to keep up with his long stride. Her cheeks and nose burned in the cold. Tears lined the rims of her eyes and carved tear tracks down her face. Her heart rammed against her chest and her palms flooded with sweat. She could feel the hand of fear gripping at her, squeezing tight until her head began to pound.

A gunshot cracked through the air. Isaac dropped down and pulled Melanie down with him. He pushed her head down and covered it with his arms as another one rung out. Screams followed the gunshots but they weren't human-like at all. It sounded like a wounded animal in pain.

_Scott?_ Melanie peeked out between Isaac's arms to see that everything had come to a standstill. The screeching of tires and screams had come to a halt. People started to gather around something that was illuminated in bright beams of the headlights. "Are you okay?" She lifted her head to see Isaac's blue eyes trained on her.

"Yeah," Melanie replied, her voice quiet. He backed away and she stood at full height, glancing at the gathering crowd again. Like the rest of the onlookers, she found the pull of her curiosity so strong that she made her way through the cars to reach the group. She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd with her elbows until she finally spotted what it was that had gotten shot.

It was a mountain lion.

* * *

><p>an - Well, what did you think? Things are getting tense now! As always, thanks to those who fav/alert/review. I see I've gotten some new favs/alerts over the past couple of days, I would love to know what you quiet readers/lurkers think. Drop a review, us author's love 'em. Also, what do you think of my new cover image for the story? Made it myself. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review.


	10. Ahead of the Pack

**Chapter 10: Ahead of the Pack**

It wasn't a good time to have best friends. Melanie tried relentlessly to get Erica to talk to her but she got radio silence for the past two days. She tried showing up at Erica's house to drive her to school only to be told by Mrs. Reyes that Erica wasn't feeling well enough to attend. She tried calling and leaving messages and sending texts but got nothing back. She even had her mom send Erica her favorite flowers—daisies—and still nothing.

She was happy to see that Stiles and Scott were still on the outs and felt bad about being happy about it at the same time. But misery loved company. She was misery and Stiles was her company. They spent their free periods together, mainly so Stiles could dodge Scott, but lunch was when it became unbearable. Even if she was bothered by Scott abandoning them in a sense she tried to keep a conversation going hoping that Stiles would jump in and they could fix things but he stayed quiet. Even when Melanie asked about Derek teaching him how to become a better werewolf Stiles didn't take the bait.

Lacrosse practice was worse. Scott had been placed in goal and Stiles was taking every chance he could get to hit Scott with a lacrosse ball. Scott had apologized time and time again about not being around and for Sheriff Stilinski getting hit by a car but Stiles still sat around with his lips pulled back and a glare embedded on his face.

With those two fighting still she knew it wouldn't be a good time to bring up the idea that she wanted to talk to Derek about her dreams. Stiles still wasn't fond of the boy nor did he trust him but Melanie thought that he had to know something about why she was dreaming of the Alpha. The dreams couldn't have been precognitive, she didn't suddenly grow a fin or wings overnight but they had to mean _something_. Especially if the Alpha to be in her own neighborhood.

She had finally made up her mind and decided to ask about her idea when the ball rang to signal the end of class. Thankfully she was in the right place at the right time when she spotted Stiles and Scott coming out from a side door. Quickly closing her locker and replacing the lock, she clutched her books to her chest and raced after them.

"He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" Stiles was asking. Scott nodded. "Alright, well correct me if I'm wrong but every time you do that you try to kill someone, namely me."

"Oh my god, have you two still not learned to _whisper_? You're in the halls!" Melanie said, elbowing her way between Stiles and Scott.

"Sorry," Stiles and Scott replied in unison.

"So have you two made up yet?" she asked. Scott and Stiles looked at each other over their heads. She shook her hers. Boys. "Never mind. What are you talking about?"

"Derek wants to teach Scott how to control his shifting," Stiles replied.

"How's he gonna do that?" Melanie asked, her nose wrinkling.

"I don't know," Scott replied. "I don't think he does either."

"When are you seeing him again?" Stiles asked.

"He told me not to talk about it. Just act normal and get through the rest of the day."

"When?" Stiles stressed, stopping them from walking.

"He's picking me up at the Animal Clinic after work," Scott said.

"After work," Stiles replied. "Alright, well that gives me to the end of the school day then."

"To do what?" Melanie and Scott asked in unison. She didn't like the tone he used or the look on his face.

"To teach him myself," Stiles said.

Melanie laughed. Stiles and Scott looked at her and the expressions on their faces made her laugh even harder. She doubled over, holding her stomach as her chest expanded and contracted due to her breathing. Finally she got herself under control and said in a high pitched voice, "I'm sorry, you just said something really funny. Stiles, come on. How in the _world_ are you going to teach him?"

Stiles licked his lower lip. He was clearly affronted by Melanie's attitude towards his plan. "You don't think I can do it?" he asked.

"I don't think you know what you're up against," she replied. She lowered her voice, looked around, and said, "He's a werewolf, not a puppy. Someone who's been there could probably do a better job. Any sort of humanity in him goes out the window when the animal side kicks in. How are you going to protect yourself if something goes wrong?"

"I'm not going to hurt him," Scott jumped in.

"So you say." She rubbed the side of her head. "I don't mean to be a Negative Nancy but I'm just saying there's a difference between what we read in books and the real thing. Even my knowledge about them is limited."

"Well see, that's the difference between you and me," Stiles said, "you give up when the information you get runs dry. I can think outside the box." He paused. "Give me until after lunch and I can come up with something."

"Five bucks you're in over your head," Melanie shot back.

"Deal." Stiles held out his hand and slapped her palm.

"Guys! I can't believe you're betting on me," Scott said, appalled.

"My pride is on the line," Stiles told him.

"Yeah and apparently it has a cheap price," Melanie said with a teasing smile, pressing her elbow into her side. She lifted her head as the lunch bell rang. "Okay guys, I'll see you after lunch." Scott reached out and grabbed the top of her backpack. She jogged in place, trying to get out of his grip and then finally stopped to look back at him. "Why aren't I going anywhere?" she asked.

"I need you to do me a favor," Scott replied.

"Scott, as much as I want to, I'm not a licensed cosmetologist so I can't give you a haircut," Melanie replied. She giggled when Scott's eyebrows lowered and he ran his hands through his hair. He paused and then shook his head.

"No, not that," he said. "I kinda have to stay away from Allison." Melanie snorted. Scott sighed. "Derek's orders. But I can't sit with her at lunch so…I need you to distract her."

"That's what Lydia's for," Melanie pointed out, turning to walk away. Scott grabbed onto her backpack again.

"Please," he begged. "Just…talk to her about something. I've been dodging her all day, she'll want to try and sit with me. Talk to her about girl stuff. Makeup…clothes…_boys_! Only…only not me."

Melanie scoffed. "You have a very skewed view on girls if you think that's all we have to talk about," she pointed out.

"Melanie, _please_!"

"Okay!" she cried out, throwing her arms into the air. "Okay, fine, I'll sit with her. But you owe me!" Boy, would he owe her. Somehow he forgot that she and Lydia ate lunch together all the time ad she and Lydia had as many things in common as cats and elephants. What in the world would they be able to talk about? She didn't now but whatever it was she knew it would have to last at least an hour.

She groaned. An hour eating lunch with Lydia. What fun. Sighing, she followed the mass of students to the cafeteria and looked around. It was only when she stood in line and spotted the two girls talking that she remembered she had promised to sit with Isaac that day. She didn't want to eat lunch alone in the music room again and he had offered to keep her company. She twisted her mouth to the side as she pulled out her phone to send him a text. She knew he would understand but it didn't stop her stomach from sinking and disappointment and regret from washing over her.

**Mel:** _There's a bit of a change of plans. Sitting with Allison and Lydia today. _

She bit her thumbnail as the text was sent off. She peered through a few heads over to a round table that Isaac had been sitting at. It looked uncomfortable for him. He had to scrunch his tall frame down at a low table. His long legs were curled in awkwardly beneath his chair. She bit down harder when he reached for his phone. He checked the screen, lightly grabbed at his hair, and then tapped his thumbs against his phone before setting it aside. Melanie jumped when her phone buzzed in her hand.

**Isaac:** _Oh, okay. I'll see you later then. Rain check?_

Melanie let out the breath she was holding and felt herself bounce on her toes in elation. Great! He still wanted to sit with her. Smile spreading across her face she shot back a quick reply and then turned to gather some food on her tray. It was nice not to have a friend mad at her.

She shuffled down the line, gathering any food that grabbed her eye (in a good way, she wanted to avoid the green-tinged meat even if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her) and then paid for it. Smiling her thanks at the worker, she grabbed her tray and made a beeline for Allison's and Lydia's table.

"Heyyy," she dragged out, garnering their attention, "is it alright if I sit here?" She nodded at the seat across from Allison.

"Oh, uhm," Allison stammered. She looked over at Lydia who looked at her nails. Allison turned back to Melanie and said with a dimpled-smile, "Sure, sit down."

"Thanks." Melanie rounded the table and pulled back the blue plastic chair. It scraped against the tile floor. She set her tray down and dropped into the chair, setting her books and bag down in the empty chair next to her. Curling her legs around the legs of the chair she scooted herself forward and looked up to see Allison and Lydia watching her. "So!" She clasped her hands together in her lap. "This is cozy." Lydia turned her attention back to the piece of meat on her fork and took a bite. Melanie nodded her head and looked over at Allison, noticing the large book propped up on her knee. "What are you reading?" she asked.

"Some book my Aunt Kate showed me," Allison replied. "I was telling Lydia about the Beast of Gevaudan." Melanie paused with her fork full of greenbeans halfway to her mouth. "You've heard of it?" Allison asked excitedly.

"…Kinda," Melanie replied, slowly. She remembered reading a little bit about the story in one of her supernatural books but it was nothing more than a few sentences. How did Allison have so much information on it?

"Listen to this," Allison continued. She cleared her throat and began reading. Melanie sat still and listened to every word as she recounted the story, ignoring Lydia's interruptions to mention that the story was 'boring'. But Melanie was captivated. She didn't dare to breathe, wanting to catch every word that Allison spoke. Something about it rattled her deep in her bones. Something about it wasn't just a story for her ancestors. It was Lydia's dismissing comment about killing a big wolf that snapped her out of her trance-like state.

"Not just a big wolf. Take a look at this," Allison said while flipping some pages. Melanie had successfully taken a bite of her food when Allison turned the book around. She almost launched her chewed food across the table in her surprise when she looked at the picture. It was a big, shadowy wolf-like creature with red eyes.

_The Alpha_? Melanie's breath caught painfully in her throat. She grabbed her water bottle and chugged some of it, noticing the looks that Allison and Lydia were giving her out of the corner of her eye. "Sorry–thought I was choking!" she explained once she swallowed and resealed the cap.

Lydia's eyes narrowed. "If you were choking—"

"Hey! So!" Melanie interrupted her. "What did that look like to you?"

Lydia looked at the picture again. Melanie lowered her head to scoop more food into her mouth and looked up when Allison called Lydia's name. One of Melanie's eyebrows dropped at the sight of Lydia staring at the book. She stared so long Melanie was surprised her eyes didn't burn a hole through the book. She had to hide her sudden smile. That would be an interesting power indeed.

"Lydia," Allison called again.

Lydia's gaze on the book broke. Allison's mouth twitched with an unasked question. Lydia sat up straight, regained her composure, and said, "It looks like a big wolf." Her smirk-like smile replied to her face as she trilled "See you in history", gathered her things, and left the two girls at the table.

Allison closed the book and set it aside. "That was weird," she noted.

"Mhm, very," Melanie agreed, looking over her shoulder. She nearly fell out of her chair when she spotted Scott trying desperately to hide behind his textbook. That was his plan to avoid her? By using that book as a shield? She groaned and held her face. Boys!

"Are you alright?" Allison asked, noticing the sound that came out of Melanie's mouth and the way she was holding her face. "Do you feel sick? Do you need the nurse?" They weren't the best of friends but if Melanie was sick Allison wasn't against helping her there. She would hope that someone would do the same if she were in need.

"Me? No! I'm fine! I'm great! I'm good!" Melanie said, sitting straight up. "I was just…thinking about how I…how I…" _C'mon Mel, think! Think!_ Her eyes roamed the room, avoiding Allison's concerned gaze, and then they rested on Isaac who was still eating by himself. _That's it!_ "How I…meant to add something to my project on Greece before I turned it in. Would've tied it all together."

"Oh," Allison said simply. "Oh, well, I'm sure it's okay. You got an A on it, didn't you?"

"A+," Melanie corrected. She couldn't help it, she was proud of the work she and Isaac did on the project. It didn't even feel like a project to her, it was fun. Not only did she get a chance to learn more about Greek Mythology but she got to get to know Isaac from it too and she couldn't have asked for a better result from it. Now if only she could stop jumping onto his lap… "What about you?"

"Go a B," Allison replied. She tried to smile but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. Melanie stared at her, probing her continue. "Buuttt," she dragged, "I kinda wish I had a better partner. I ended up doing all of the work."

"Yeah, that's the risk you end up taking on projects." Melanie grabbed the brownie that was sitting on her plate and took a bite. The rush of chocolate and sugar hurt behind her jaw but it was a pain that she found pleasure in. "I got lucky," she added, looking over at Isaac again. Allison turned in her seat, her hair making a brief halo as it whipped around. When she turned back her eyes were sparkling and her lips were pressed together as if she were trying to keep in a secret that wanted out. Melanie didn't miss the expression on her face. "What?" Melanie asked.

"Nothing," Allison replied, poking at her food. The smile never left her face. "Just that you two seem to have gotten close, that's all."

"Yeah, we're friends," Melanie stated.

"I bet you are," Allison replied.

Melanie paused her chewing. She didn't like the tone Allison used. And what was that supposed to mean? _'I bet you are'_?. She just said they were friends, what else could they be? Melanie shook her head. She always thought Allison was a bit weird. That just confirmed it. She swallowed the bite she had been chewing and went for her carton of milk. A commotion made her turn her head. Stiles had grabbed Scott's books and was leaving the cafeteria with it. Scott grabbed his backpack and hastily ran after them. If they were trying to be subtle it wasn't working. Allison noticed right away.

"Scott?" Allison called out. But her words fell on deaf ears as Scott and Stiles kept walking. "Scott, wait!" Allison called again as she gathered her books

"Wait, Allison," Melanie said hastily wiping milk off her lip. "I need to ask you something!"

"Later," Allison replied. "I need to catch Scott."

Allison was already out of her seat and across the cafeteria before Melanie could stop her. She sighed. She hoped she had bought Scott enough time to get out. Looking around, she noticed that others at the long table she was sitting at had left and she was alone with their empty trays. Clicking her tongue, she gathered her own books, her bag, her tray, and crossed the room to where Isaac was sitting. He seemed to straighten up as she approached.

"Hey," she greeted him. "That rain check still good?"

He smiled.

**# # #**

The period after lunch was a free period for her. After saying goodbye to Isaac she checked her phone and jogged to the locker room where her lacrosse stick was held. Stiles had texted her, asking her to bring it along and meet him and Scott at the practice fields. She didn't mind spending her free period practicing her shots and her skills if it gave her a better chance to make first line. It was also the right distraction she needed to get her mind off of Erica.

She expected to get good use out of her stick but she didn't expect her target to be Scott. Stiles explained how, in his opinion, that the key to Scott controlling his werewolf powers would be to control his heart rate. Melanie frowned at that. Not that she had lost out on five bucks but because there was nothing like that in her books, nothing like that in the bank of information stored in her head. Hell, there was nothing like that written in _Harry Potter_ and yet Stiles came to that conclusion? She shouldn't have been surprised being that it was Stiles, he was a smart kid, but it was that she said she could help them out but how could she when Stiles had all the answers?

Her jaw clenched. Did she really get into all of this for nothing? Scott had Stiles, what use could she be? Identifying wolfsbane? Derek was there for that. Where did she fit? Back in the world of normalcy? She couldn't just abandon them now. Not when she was that far in and, supposedly, had a connection to the alpha. Sticking her lacrosse stick on the ground, she scooped up a ball that Stiles had rolled out onto the grass for the exercise. Their goal? Get Scott angry to see how well he could control his heart rate and to do that they were to throw the lacrosse balls at him.

Melanie glanced at Stiles out of the corner of his eye and noticed the half smile on his face as he grabbed his own lacrosse stick. it was almost a little sinister. It was a weird addition to his face. Either way she waited for him to give the go ahead to throw the ball. She hesitated but he went ahead and lobbed it at Scott, hitting him in the stomach. She gasped as Scott doubled over in pain. His pain seemed to bring Stiles some joy as he giggled before getting another ball. He lobbed that one without hesitation as well, smacking Scott in the face.

"Maybe you fixed his jaw with that one," Melanie couldn't help but joke.

"Gee, thanks," Scott grumbled.

"I'm sorry! The opportunity was there," she said, laughing.

"You throw some too," Stiles told her. "Get some target practice in."

"Wait a minute," Scott protested.

"Quiet. Remember you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, alright? About staying calm," Stiles reminded him. He regarded Melanie. "Come on, throw some at him too."

She didn't need to be urged twice. Silently apologizing to Scott, she drew back her arm and threw the ball at Scott. It flew past his head. Frowning, she scooped up another one and threw that. It smacked him against the chest. She and Stiles went back and forth throwing balls at him. They rained down on his chest, stomach, arms, and legs. One shot even hit him in the crotch which made Melanie fall over laughing despite his obvious pain. She regained her composure and threw a few more. But it was Stiles's last throw that got Scott angry. When he fell to his knees and began breathing heavy they both stopped what they were doing. Stiles went to the beeping phone and Melanie rushed to Scott's side.

"Scott?" she asked, apprehensively.

"Stay back," he ordered, still breathing heavy.

She backed away rapidly, eyes widened, pulse racing as he wrenched his arms from behind his back, ripping through the tape like scissors through paper. He dug his fingers into the soft earth and continued to breathe heavily as the beeping raced. Finally they backed off and Scott's breathing eased. Melanie and Stiles took that as a sign that it was safe to approach him.

"You started to change," Stiles noted.

"From anger," Scott breathed, "but it was more than that. It's like the angrier I got…the stronger I felt."

"The animal side was kicking in," Melanie commented.

"So it is anger then," Stiles concluded. "Derek's right."

"I can't be around Allison," Scott said. She didn't miss the sad tone that had molded around his words. It made her heart ache, hearing such raw emotion.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head. "No. Because she makes me weak."

Melanie deflated, her shoulders sagged and her eyes drooped and she stared at Scott as if he had said that clouds were made of cotton candy. Hearing that was the dumbest thing she had ever heard. But she kept her mouth shut. She learned a long time ago saying anything remotely bad against Allison around Scott was not a good idea. Instead they grabbed their gear and went back to the locker room. Melanie even insisted on entering the boys' locker room so as not to miss whatever conversation they were about to have. She didn't want to be left out.

"So you have to stay away from Allison for a few days, big deal," Melanie said with a roll of her eyes as she sat on the bench in the locker room. There was no way she was going to touch anything in there. "It can't be _that_ hard."

"You don't understand," Scott groaned. "I just…I can't be away from her."

"I've noticed," she mumbled, deadpan.

"But is it a few days or is it forever?" Scott asked. They didn't miss the worry in his voice.

"You know this whole women makes you weak thing is a little too Spartan warrior for me," Stiles commented.

"What he said," Melanie agreed, jerking her thumb in his direction.

"It's probably just part of the learning process," Stiles continued.

"But you've seen Derek," Scott moaned, "He's all alone. What if I can never be around her again?"

"Well if you're not dead that could be a good thing," Stiles deadpanned.

"I'd rather be dead," Scott mumbled.

"Alright, you're not gonna end up like Derek. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah, there has to be some way you can have both if you want it so badly," Melanie added. "Have your cake and eat it too." She sighed in a wistful manner. "Now I want cake…"

Stiles snorted and ruffled her head. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said.

Melanie stood, fixing her hair, and Scott grabbed his backpack. "Something smells terrible in here anyway," Scott said.

"Really? In a boy's locker-room? That doesn't make any sense at all," Stiles said sarcastically. Melanie shoved him forward.

"Nah, it's like something's rotting or dying," Scott clarified.

"Ew," Melanie said, making a face. "Glad I don't have to deal with the nose of a bloodhound." She patted Scott's back. "Sorry for you."

The trio left the locker room while, behind them, a pale and gaunt-looking Jackson stepped out from behind a bank of lockers.

**# # #**

Economics with Coach Finstock was their next class that they had to sit through. Melanie sat in front of Stiles and next to Isaac while Allison managed to squeeze her way into the seat behind Scott. Coach Finstock started out the class as he always did, asking for those who read the homework to raise their hands. It was a tactic just to weed out those who didn't so he could put them on the spot, everyone knew. This time his target was Scott.

Those who knew Coach as unbearable on the field didn't know how he could be in class towards his own players. He didn't let up on them. Melanie bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat as Coach fired question after question at him, demeaning him. She tried sitting one way and then shifted so she was sitting on her hands. She bit her lip and tried to think of a song to keep herself from giving into the pressure of defending him. It just wouldn't be a good idea to step in and try to save Scott. She didn't want Finstock's wrath off the field as well.

Anger built up inside of her. It just wasn't fair! Why didn't he pick on someone else? Then she heard it. The beeping from the phone that Stiles stole from Finstock. Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter. Couldn't he turn down the volume or something? How stupid could Stiles be? She gritted her teeth. _C'mon Scott, relax. Keep it under control_.

"Are you okay?" she heard Isaac whisper across the aisle.

She managed to send a reassuring smile his way. "Yeah, just, uh, just a little tummy ache," she replied. But that was an understatement. Her stomach was flip-flopping all over the place. She couldn't even begin to imagine how Scott was feeling. The beeps got higher pitched and occurred faster. She held her breath. _Don't wolf out, don't wolf out_.

And then the beeping slowed. She sat up straighter in her chair. What in the world could have caused his heart beat to slow down? She half turned in her chair and saw it. Allison had leaned forward and grabbed a hold of his hand. She turned around all the way to look at Stiles. He looked as exasperated as she felt. _Of course it was Allison._

Class went by as a boring blur and the next thing they knew school was over. Melanie gathered up her things and waited for Scott and Stiles before leaving the room with them. They left in silence and didn't bother talking until they got into the halls.

"It's her," Stiles announced.

Scott looked around, his eyes clouded in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's Allison," Stiles explained. "Remember what you told me the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? And then the night of the lacrosse game? You were thinking about her so you could score. And in the locker room you didn't kill her. At least not like how you were trying to kill me." Scott stared at her.

"I don't think he gets it," Melanie relayed.

"She brings you back, is what I'm trying to say," Stiles said.

"But it's not always true," Scott protested, "because literally every time I'm kissing her or I'm-I'm touching her—"

"No, that's not the same," Stiles interrupted him. "When you're doing that you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex." Melanie tilted her head as a smile inched its way onto Scott's face. The look wasn't lost on Stiles who immediately read Scott's mind. "You're thinking about sex right now aren't you?"

"Yeah," Scott laughed, unashamed. He quickly changed his tune when Melanie cleared her throat and glared at him. "Sorry."

"Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand that was different okay? I don't think she makes you weak, I think she actually gives you control."

"Like an anchor," Melanie supplied, catching on.

"Exactly," Stiles said.

"Yeah, because I love her," Scott said easily. Melanie stopped walking and gaped at him once the words slammed into her brain. Her ears buzzed. What did he just say? It seemed that his mind was thinking the same thing because he stopped short.

"Did I just say that?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Melanie replied, still stunned.

"I love her," Scott repeated.

"That's great," Stiles said, unimpressed, "Now moving on—"

"No, no, no. Really. I think I'm totally in love with her."

"And that's beautiful. Now before you go off and write a _sonnet_ can we figure this out please?" Stiles asked. His tone was borderline impatient at this point.

"Because you obviously can't be around her all the time," Melanie added, a bit of an edge to her voice. It was enough to snap Scott out of his reverie.

"Yeah, sorry," Scott said, blinking rapidly. "So what do I do?"

"I don't know!" Stiles cried out, clearly frustrated at this point. He spun in a circle as he thought and a light appeared in his eye.

"Oh no, you're getting an idea aren't you?" Scott groaned.

"Yeah," Stiles replied.

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?"

"Maybe."

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Ooh, then I'm out," Melanie said, holding up her hands and backing away. She didn't want to be involved in another one of Stiles' plans. "I need to take Erica some homework and I gotta help Mom out today. Text me later!" She called out and then ran down the hall.

**# # #**

Melanie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as she sat in the parking lot of the Animal Clinic. She had been on her way to Flowerworks when she remembered Scott saying that Derek was going to meet him to try and train him. So she deviated from her normal route and drove to the Animal Clinic instead. The parking lot was nearly empty save for the smattering of cars parked. She pulled into a parking spot and waited for Derek to show up.

The time ticked by slowly. She glanced at the time on her phone every two minutes and when that wasn't driving her crazy she was obsessively sending Erica texts. Some were asking how she was, some were telling her how much she missed her friend, and others were of kittens in baskets. Erica couldn't resist kittens in baskets. But each text got no response. Like usual.

Melanie got comfortable in her seat. It felt weird sitting in her truck by herself. Erica was always right there next to her, criticizing her taste in music but singing along as if her life depended on it when a song they both enjoyed came on the radio. Melanie cracked a smile when she thought back to the day she first got her truck.

It was two days after her sixteenth birthday. Her father had surprised her with it after he picked her up from school. The first thing she did once she got the keys was jump in, grab Erica, and drive to the local ice cream store for a float. They had a taste of freedom that day. With the wind flowing through the air and their worries quickly fading into the distance the open road was ahead of them, full of possibilities. Their future was bright. She only expected Erica to be there right next to her like on that day, to experience the ride of her life with her. And one small argument was putting the brakes on that. She knew Erica could be stubborn but this was ridiculous!

Melanie had started to compose another text but her thumbs froze. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her breath caught in her chest. As if being pulled by a thread, she lifted her head and looked out the window.

"_Yipes_!" she screamed when she saw Derek's intense gaze staring back at her. She took a deep breath to begin to slow her racing heart and shoved her phone in her pocket. Grabbing her keys, she popped open the driver's side door and dropped down to the ground.

"What do you want?" Derek demanded.

"How'd you know I was waiting for you?" Melanie asked, closing her door behind her.

"What do you _want_?" he repeated, ignoring her question.

"I need to talk to you."

"So talk."

Melanie hesitated. She remembered how she explained her dreams to Stiles and how they couldn't come to some sort of solution. She had a bit more of a blind faith in Derek but what if he couldn't help her either? What if she was just certifiably crazy?

_"Today_," Derek stressed.

Melanie jumped. "Right, yeah, sorry," she mumbled. "It's…it's this. For the past couple of weeks I've been having these dreams. I was…I dunno, a mermaid in one and a bird-human thing in another."

Derek snorted. "Sounds like you need to lay off the sugar before bed," he commented.

"That's not it. In them I…I saw these glowing red eyes." That statement seemed to grab Derek's attention. A muscle in his jaw twitched but he didn't say anything so she continued. "I thought they were just random eyes at first. A nightmare sort of thing. Then I got involved in this and found out what the Alpha was and…the eyes are the same. And-and he was outside of my house once and—"

"What?" Derek snapped, his eyebrows furrowing. "The Alpha was at your house? Did it do anything?"

"No! No! I just saw it's eyes in the bushes. Nothing happened. No attacks. Nothing weird. It was as if it was just…watching me or something," Melanie replied. Derek stayed as silent as ever. Melanie kicked at the ground, the rubber on the bottom of her shoes scuffed against the gravel. "Why would I dream about the Alpha before I even knew it existed? How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Derek admitted. "But whatever you do don't try to approach it and don't think you can handle it by yourself."

Melanie huffed. Here she thought Derek could help her but he was being as big of help as Stiles and Scott. "What makes you think I'd try to approach it?" she demanded.

"You don't seem to have a problem with barging past boundaries that you have no reason to go past," he commented. Melanie opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. He had a point there; even she had to admit that. "Yeah, so, unless you have anything else you'd like to share that I don't care about, there's something I need to take care of."

"What is it?" Melanie asked, following after him. She nearly ran into his back when he stopped walking and whirled around to look down on her. "Maybe I can help."

"What did I just tell you?" he demanded.

"Uhhh…to not approach the Alpha?"

"Exactly."

"Well, yeah, but what does that have anything to do with…?" her voice trailed off as she looked around. Her eyes were pulled over to the sign outside the building as if attracted to it. Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. "No way," she muttered. Derek's eyes popped up so he looked at the sky and then fell back to her. "You think _Dr. Deaton_ is the Alpha?"

Derek held her gaze. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - I don't know about you guys when it comes to reading it but I love writing the dynamic between Derek and Melanie. Hell, I like writing the dynamic between her and a lot of people but something about writing her in scenes with Derek I find really enjoyable. We're getting close to my favorite episode of the season, Night School, and I can't wait for you guys to see what I did with it. Hint: it's so action packed that it had to be split into two chapters. So get excited for that! What did you think of this chapter? Please leave a review.

Also, to comment on _Guest_'s review: I appreciate the passion you have for Erica/Melanie. Honestly, I had thought about writing them together since the beginning but wasn't sure how well received it would be/was afraid to attempt it just in case I ended up offending anyone or portraying something wrong. However, after thinking long and hard about it, I decided to give it a go. It has been reflected in the summary (I added in Erica/OC) and so I will have to tweak plans I had for the story a little bit to make it work but I hope you all enjoy what I have planned now. To go along with this, and just to get an idea of the people out there reading, I have a poll up on my profile that pertains to this story that I would like for you to answer just to get a feel of where you are.

Thanks for reading!


	11. Nightmare on Beacon Street Part 1

**Chapter 11: Nightmare on Beacon Street Part 1**

Night fell before Melanie was finally clued in one what went on the two hours she was banished by Derek to her truck in the parking lot. As if she was really going to be stupid enough to go charging in on an Alpha! …Okay, sometimes her body worked before her brain but she wouldn't be that _crazy_. Derek had left before Scott came out, his tires squealed as he raced out of the parking lot. Smoking tire tracks were left in his wake.

Scott exited the building sometime later, telling her to meet him and Stiles at the school. She left without needing to be told twice. Scott had a serious look on his face that she had only seen twice in her life and it shook her to her very core like it did when she was younger.

The parking lot of Beacon Hills High was scarcely lit up by the street lamps. The shadows it created stretched and reached out across the asphalt. Sitting in the parking lot where a mountain lion was just shot and killed felt odd. Like she was calling out to all the spirits that would listen to wreak some sort of havoc on them. It sure felt like it, with the weight that pressed down on her shoulders. But she didn't have much time to think about it for Stiles' jeep pulled into the parking lot. She exited her car and approached Scott and Stiles as they climbed out.

"So…you want to try and face with Alpha with just a pair of bolt cutters?" Melanie asked, lifting her head to motion towards the tool in Stiles's had. "What are you going to do, pierce his nose?"

"You have a better weapon of choice?" Stiles asked.

"This is all I have," she replied, holding up her handy dandy lacrosse stick. "It's better than yours!" She protested towards the look of contempt that Stiles was giving her. The sound of tires crushing asphalt broke through the still air. Derek's black Camaro swung into a parking spot. The trio walked over to the sleek black car as Derek got out.

"Where's my boss?" Scott demanded.

"He's in the back," Derek said, brushing off Scott's concern. They all looked through the windows to see that Dr. Deaton, indeed, was in the back of the car. Bound and gagged but he was back there.

"He looks comfortable," Stiles muttered. Scott nudged Stiles and the two walked towards the school.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Derek demanded.

Scott looked over his shoulder. "You said I was linked with the alpha. I'm gonna see if you're right."

Melanie shoved her hands into her pockets and pulled her jean jacket tighter around her. Despite wearing it over another hooded jacket it didn't keep the cold out. She bent her knees and began bouncing on her toes as she waited. "How are you not cold?" she asked Derek.

"Warm blooded," he replied, "I have a higher core temperature."

"Ah, right," Melanie replied. As if that made all the difference in the world. Must be some werewolf thing. Melanie started pacing around, anything to keep her body temperature up. Eventually she wandered over to Stiles's jeep and waited there. She felt safer standing in the light of the street lamp than she did in the shadows. Derek must of thought of the same thing since he came over and leaned against the back windows.

Silence stretched on between them, the only other sound being the rustling of leaves of the nearby trees. The light breeze caressed her skin and left a slight sting in its wake. But that was soon broken by the worst sound she had ever heard in her entire life. It bounced off the brick of the school and punctuated the ink black sky. _That_ was Scott's idea of a howl?

"He's gotta be kidding me," Derek muttered as Melanie burst out laughing. Half of it was directed at Scott's howling and the other half was directed at Derek's dry delivery. She was glad the car was behind her or else she would have fallen to the ground. It was just so _pathetic_.

The next howl, however, wasn't it. It was much more powerful, much more guttural. It made her laugh lodge itself in her throat and out came a choking sound instead. She stepped away from the jeep and looked up at the school as the last strains of the howl faded away in the distance. She glanced around at Derek, even he seemed impressed with the efforts, if only for a little while. His amazement was quickly replaced with anger.

"I'm gonna kill both of you. What the hell was that?" he demanded once Scott and Stiles came back out of the school and got within earshot of him. Their pride deflated before Melanie's eyes at Derek's harsh tone. "What are you trying to do? Attract the entire state to this school?"

"Sorry, I didn't know it would be that loud," Scott replied, awe still attached to his words.

"Yeah, it was loud. And it was _awesome_," Stiles sang.

"Shut up," Derek snapped.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a sour wolf."

Scott's attention strayed from the conversation to the car behind him and Derek. "What'd you do with him?" he asked as he started forward. Melanie's eyebrows crinkled together. She whirled around and saw…nothing. The backseat was empty. Her heart dropped. How was that possible? They were standing right there.

"What?" Derek murmured and then turned around himself. "I didn't do anything," he insisted after seeing the back door ajar.

"Then how did—?" Melanie started but her words cut off and were replaced with a sharp scream as Derek staggered forward. Blood dripped out of his mouth and he was lifted up into the air. Stiles lurched forward, grabbed Melanie's arm, and pulled her away since her scrambling legs weren't helping support her at the moment. It was then that she saw it. Saw the alpha. He had his claws sunk into Derek's back. Screaming again she, Stiles, and Scott took off up the front lawn and towards the school doors. Melanie skidded to a stop when she heard the sound of a body hitting the brick wall and turned in time to see Derek's lifeless body on the ground. "_Derek_!" she yelled, starting for him.

"Melanie, no!" Scott grabbed onto the hood of her shirt and pulled her into the school. He and Stiles then scrambled to hold the door shut, all three ducking down beneath the windows.

"We have to get him!" Melanie insisted. "He's hurt!"

"So will we be if we go out there!" Stiles hissed amidst Scott yelling at him to lock the doors. Shifting the object of his attention he demanded to know, "Do I look like I have a key?"

"Well find something!" Scott replied.

"What?"

"Anything!"

Stiles stopped moving for a second and then he stood up straight to look out the window. Melanie stayed crouched between the two of them, trembling as she held onto her lacrosse stick. She still stayed seated when Scott stood to see what Stiles was looking at. The two boys bickered but it fell on deaf ears as Stiles still opened the door and slipped out. He wasn't out there for long when Scott started slapping his palm against the door and yelled for his friend. Stiles wrenched the door back open and slipped inside, slamming the handle of the bolt cutters in between the two doors.

"I'm not a genius," Melanie started, her voice trembling as much as her body, "but I don't think that things going to hold for long."

"Probably not," Stiles agreed. He held out his hands and pulled Melanie to her feet. The three huddled together as they backed away from the door. The beam to Stiles's flashlight bounced erratically around the hall as it wobbled in his hand.

Then came the howl. Melanie wasn't sure how she heard it past the thumping of her heart in her ears or the roaring of her rushing blood but she did. She heard it all the way down to her core. It shook her like going down a fast drop on a rollercoaster. They didn't wait long to see where it came from, they turned and took off running in the dark hall. What made school what it was in the daylight turned it into a nightmare now. The clock faces become demons from hell, taunting them as they sprinted by. Shadows of materials used in classrooms reached out and clawed at their heels, stretching to take them down. Light bounced off of locker handles, shining likes eyes, spying on them, an audience for their horror show.

The burst into the first classroom they found with an open door. Melanie backed up towards the windows as Stiles and Scott pushed a desk over to block the door. That is until Stiles stopped them, reminding them that it wouldn't keep the alpha out and then jumped onto the theory that the alpha was Dr. Deaton. Scott still denied the fact and Melanie jumped to his side. It couldn't be Dr. Deaton. Not that sweet man. He could never hurt an injured animal, why would he hurt one of them? Innocent people?

Melanie turned towards the window, looking for a way out. There was no sense in trying to open it, they were locked due to the school being climate controlled. And breaking a window would only signal to the alpha where they were. She looked over at the parking lot where their cars still sat. That was their only option. Get to their cars and get away and hope that, if by some miracle Derek was still alive, he could get away too. But wait… Melanie rubbed her arm over the glass, wiping away the condensation that she had just breathed onto it.

"Uhh…Stiles," she called out, her eyes trained on the mangled and ripped hood of his jeep. "You're going to want to see this!" Stiles and Scott ran over to the window and she pointed.

"Stiles, what the hell happened to your jeep?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," he said, his voice hitching with worry.

"It's bent!"

"Like dented!?" Stiles inquired, shoving his way between him and Melanie.

"No, I-I mean _bent!_" Scott stated. Melanie pressed her nose against the glass to be sure she was seeing what she was actually seeing. There it was, plain as day. She couldn't tell what was actually wrong with it but she knew enough about cars to tell that the hood being bent like that was not a good thing.

"What the hell—?"

Stiles unfinished question was cut off by a resounding crash. Melanie screamed and lifted her arms over her head as she ducked. She could feel Scott and Stiles lying atop of her to protect her body from the projectile glass shards. As soon as the noise started it all stopped, even the tinkling of the glass on the floor. Melanie's chest heaved and her lungs burned due to the effort of pulling air in around Stiles' and Scott's thick jacket sleeves that covered her face. Lowering her arms she pushed them away and peered across the dark room at the object that lay across from them on the floor, illuminated by Stiles' flashlight.

"That's my battery!" Stiles growled, almost as if he took the damage to his car personally. Not that Melanie blamed him, if anything touched _her_ car she'd be pissed too. Melanie felt him moving against her side and grabbed his arm to stop him. "We have to move!" he hissed.

"He could be right outside!" Scott pointed out.

"He _is_ right outside!" Stiles shot back. Melanie did her best to get her breathing back to normal as her heart thudded in her chest. That must be what it felt like to have a horse trampling on her, she reasoned.

"Just let me take a look," Scott pleaded. Melanie felt Scott inch up towards the widow next to her as she struggled to get her lungs to work again. But it felt as if a vice grip had settled around her neck, constricting her throat.

"Anything?" she asked, gasping for air.

"No."

"Move now?" Stiles suggested.

"Move now," Scott replied.

Melanie felt their free hands grip her elbows and guide her to her feet. Their shoes crunched against the glass shards as they scurried to the door and slipped out into the hall again. Stiles held his flashlight out in front of them, directing the beam this way and that as they traversed the hall. Scott tried to take them down to the right but Stiles stopped him, suggesting that they find a place that didn't have that many windows.

Melanie's brain rocketed to find an answer. Bathrooms? There wasn't many places they could hide there and there were windows. Stairwell? No, there was a wall of windows there. What place would logically not have windows? She snapped her fingers and then cringed at the noise but it worked to get their attention.

"Locker rooms," she said. Her suggestion hung in the air as they thought it over.

"Yeah," Stiles finally agreed. "Let's go."

They ran down the halls, taking the familiar path to the locker rooms and burst into the boy's locker room. Melanie would have preferred the girls to the boys, it didn't smell like death, but with two boys for companions it was only natural that they would head their first. She switched her breathing from her nose to her mouth to try and filter out the male stench. It was potent during the day and it was still potent long after practice was over. Surely this wouldn't help her get her breathing back to normal but what choice did she have?

"Call your dad," Melanie urged once they were inside. She brought her free arm up to her nose to inhale the scent of her fabric softener. Oh how she loved the scent of Snuggle.

"And tell him what?" Stiles demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.

"I don't know, anything," she replied.

"Gas leak, a fire, whatever," Scott added, "If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"What if it doesn't? What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight? –Including my dad?" Stiles demanded.

"They have guns," Melanie pointed out.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane - laced bullet to even slow him down, you remember that?" Stiles shot back. Scott sighed.

"Then we - we have to-" Scott stammered, trying to come up with a solution.

"We just duck our heads and run," Melanie interrupted.

"There's nothing near the school for at least a mile," Stiles reminded them.

"What about Derek's car?" Scott suggested.

Both Melanie and Stiles perked up at that suggestion. "That could work," Melanie breathed.

"We go outside, we get the keys off his body, and then we take his car," Stiles plotted.

"And _him_," Melanie said firmly.

Stiles shot her an exasperated look. "Fine," he agreed curtly. "Whatever." Excited that they finally had a plan, Stiles turned to leave. His hand had just grazed the door handle when Scott stopped him by grabbing onto his arm. "What?" Stiles whispered.

Scott swallowed. "I think I heard something," he whispered back.

"Like what?" Stiles hissed.

"Ssh, quiet!" Scott shushed him. Melanie held her breath as she listened. The only sound she heard was her heart pounding and her blood rushing in her ears. She swallowed, briefly stopping her heavy breathing and strained to hear again. Then she heard it. Something scraping against the floor. She reached out and pinched the backs of Stiles and Scott's jackets as best as she could with her stick in the way and pulled them back and away from the door with her. Scott reached over and pushed down Stiles's hand, blocking the beam of light so whatever that was on the other side of the door wouldn't see it. "Hide!" Scott's whispered order shot out of his mouth like a bullet.

Stiles then frantically scrambled with the locker door nearest him and jumped inside. Quickly catching on, Scott and Melanie found their own lockers and stuffed themselves in. It was the one time in Melanie's life she was glad that she was small enough to fit in a tight space comfortably. But then she cursed it in the next breath she came face to face with a forgotten jock strap.

"Sick!" she gasped. Her tongue dropped out of her mouth to mirror her disgust and she quickly pulled it back in to keep herself from licking the disgusting piece of fabric. She was too short to peer out of the slits in the metal properly so she kept a hand over her mouth and nose to try and muffle her breathing. Time slowed. The door handle creaked. The lock snapped as the sound of a swinging door filled the locker room. The door closed. Steady footsteps slowly came up the aisle. Step. Step. Step. Step. Melanie could count the beats. They fell into a perfect rhythm. Then the stopped.

The sound of the locker next to Melanie opening surprised her to the point that she ended up pitching forward, making her own locker door swing open. The domino effect followed when Stiles popped out of his, all causing the janitor to scream which made Melanie scream.

"Quiet!" Scott hissed. His eyes shot daggers in Melanie's direction. She mouthed her apology as a hand flew up to her chest.

"Quiet my ass" The janitor barked, grabbing his bearings. "W the hell are you trying to do, kill me?" His rhetorical question was left unanswered as his eyes bounced between the three of them. "All of you get out."

"Will you just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles tried but his pleas fell on deaf ears as the janitor grabbed Melanie's shoulder and pushed her towards the door.

"Not okay. Get the hell out of here right now," the janitor ordered. "Especially you," he added to Melanie, "girls aren't allowed in here." He grabbed Scott and Stiles and pushed all three of them outside of the locker room door and back into the school's hallway.

"God, just one second to explain!" Stiles pleaded.

"Just shut up and go," the janitor snapped, jabbing his finger down the hall to direct them.

Melanie felt more than saw the janitor being yanked off his feet behind her. She felt the wind brush past her cheek right as the locker room door slammed shut. His screams shot down the hall and in the next second the silhouette of his body appeared on the other side of the smoky glass before he crashed into the door. Blood smeared on the glass where his fingers dragged against the smooth surface, trying to get a grip on something in his desperate bid to escape. He slid out of frame and bashed against the glass again. The sounds made Melanie back up and bump into Stiles who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. She buried her face into the side of his chest and tried to block out the sound of his screams but it was already rattling around in her skull.

Dropping his arm, Stiles grabbed onto Melanie's hand and then lunged towards the door for Scott. She could see more blood smeared against the glass. There was no way the janitor could have survived that attack. The realization made her stomach turn and she had to swallow hard to keep the puke from bursting out of her mouth. Stiles managed to pry Scott off the door and they all ran down the hall, Stiles keeping a tight hold on Melanie's hand the entire way.

They didn't stop running until they reached a set of double doors…and promptly crashed into them. Stiles and Scott tried in vain to push past it but they held fast. "What the hell?" Stiles gasped. Scott pushed his door open enough to make room to stick his head through and see what it was.

"It's a dumpster," Scott reported.

"He pushed it in front of the door to block us in," Stiles realized. He tucked his shoulder and tried to shove the door open once, twice, three times. Nothing happened. "Come on, help me," he urged.

"Hello! We have a werewolf with us!" Melanie cried out, slapping Scott on the arm. "C'mon, Scott, go wolf on us and use your strength to open the door!"

"Stop, that won't work!" Scott replied, grabbing Stiles and pulled him away from the door. The only place the group could go now was back the way they came.

"I'm not dying here," Stiles said firmly as they marched down the hall, "I'm _not_ dying at school."

"We're not going to die," Melanie told him, wringing her hands along the shaft of her stick. "What the _fuck_ does this thing want?" she demanded to know, throwing her arms in the air. She quickly apologized when she noticed that she had almost whacked Stiles across the head with it.

"Me!" Scott cried out. "Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"So why isn't it chasing after Derek? He could be a part of its pack," Melanie pointed out.

"Y'know, besides the fact that he's dead," Stiles jumped in.

"_May_ be dead."

"The Alpha didn't bite him, he bit me," Scott replied. "It only wants what he bit."

"Oh, great. A psychotic werewolf who's into teen work. That's - that's beautiful," Stiles said sarcastically.

"So…what, it wants to bite Stiles and me too?" Melanie asked. Her question didn't get a response. She then noticed the cold on either side of her. That Scott and Stiles weren't flanking her anymore. She walked back over to them to see them standing stock still and looking out the widow. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Her gaze followed theirs out the window and her eyes locked with the glowing red ones of The Alpha who was perched upon the rooftop. "Oh come on!" she cried out. In the exact same moment The Alpha started running across the rooftop, towards them. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," she chanted as they took off again.

The window smashed behind them and she felt the ground tremble beneath her feet as The Alpha got inside. He growled and gnashed his jaws before taking off after them. Melanie felt like she was flying as she ran behind the boys. At one point she swore she felt The Alpha's hot breath on the back of her neck it and only made her run faster. Her feet barely touched the floor as she sprinted behind the two boys. She yelped when she almost missed the door that Scott burst through but Stiles reached back and grabbed her to yank her through.

They practically jumped down the flight of stairs they came across, moving further down into the heart of the school to get away from the monster. Melanie's skin was covered in a light layer of sweat and heat radiated from beneath her two jackets but despite the discomfort she didn't stop running. It was either be uncomfortable for a few minutes or however longer or be dead. She'd rather be uncomfortable.

They burst through another door and sprinted down yet another hall and ran through another doorway until they made it to another set of lockers. These were dingy and rusty and dented. They pressed their backs against them, trying to catch their breaths as the growls of The Alpha sounded nearby. They tried running again only to find their path blocked by the quick Alpha.

"All right, we have to do something," Stiles reasoned.

**"** Like what?" Scott and Melanie demanded in unison.

**"**I don't know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it. Something." Melanie was amazed by how sarcastic Stiles could still be despite the fact that they were possibly facing death. The Alpha growled again, somewhere to their right. Melanie scooted closer to Stiles, bumping into his side, feeling his keys dig into her. Stiles then reached into his pocket and pulled them out.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

Stiles didn't reply. Instead he curled his fingers around his keys, shushing Scott all the while, and stared off in the distance where The Alpha's shadow had appeared on the wall. Leaning forward, Stiles threw the keys and then turned, wrapping his arms around Scott's and Melanie's necks to backtrack them and pull them out of harm's way. The ground thudded with The Alpha's heavy footsteps falling in the opposite direction. Stiles, being the ever brave man he is, lunged forward and slammed the door shut of the room that the Alpha had run into.

"The desk. Come on, the desk," Stiles yelled, motioning to it as he held the door closed with his back. Melanie and Scott crouched behind the desk and pushed it until it covered the door, blocking The Alpha's escape.

Melanie covered her ears as the Alpha screamed out at them, trying to push the door open. It made her stomach drop, much like the effects of a twang of a bass line. She slowly uncovered her ears and an unbelievable smile blossomed on her face. His plan actually worked! She flashed a thumbs up in Stiles's direction, not trusting her vocal chords to work with her just yet.

"Come on, get across. Come on!" The urgency in Stiles's voice wasn't lost on them. Scott urged Melanie to go first as Stiles held out his hand. She accepted it and he pulled her across the top of the desk as she scrambled over. He gave her hand a squeeze, as if to reassure her that she was okay. As if her beating heart couldn't do that for her. Scott then scrambled across the top of the desk next and turned to see Stiles starting to climb on top.

Melanie grabbed onto his pants leg in a futile attempt to hold him back. "Have you _completely_ lost your mind?" she demanded to know as he tried to swat her away.

**"**What are you doing?" Scott hissed.

**"**I just wanna get a look at it," Stiles replied.

"Are you crazy?"

**"Look****,** it's trapped, okay? It's not gonna get out," Stiles reassured him. But Melanie wasn't so sure. He didn't sound so convincing. But maybe he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince them. Either way he got on his knees and looked through the window using his flashlight to light up the otherwise of the darkened room. "Yeah, that's right, we got you –"

**"**Will you shut up!"

**"**I'm not scared of this thing!" Stiles told Scott. He turned back to the window, licking his lips. He then fell off the table when the hand of The Alpha smashed against the glass, surprising him. This time Melanie looped her arm through his and held him back before he thought about getting back up on the desk. "I'm not scared of you. Right, 'cause you're in there, and we're out here. You're not going any –"

The sound of creaking metal and falling materials cut him off and made them all freeze. Melanie squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she didn't hear what she _thought_ she was hearing and slowly tilted her head back. She then slowly opened her eyes, the brief blur cleared up as the ceiling tiles started to buckle in succession.

The Alpha was in the ceiling!

"Fuck, Stiles!" Melanie cried out, turning and sprinted out of the room. "You just _haaaaad_ to go and taunt it!"

"Stop nagging and keep running!" Stiles shouted back as they ran around the bottom floor of the school. Melanie didn't dare look up at the ceiling to see if the creature was following them. She didn't want to know.


	12. Nightmare on Beacon Street Part 2

**Chapter 12: Nightmare on Beacon Street Part 2  
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They had just turned a corner and slowed their running when Scott stopped them, asking if they heard anything. Melanie couldn't hear a thing but then figured that Scott was using his werewolf hearing to pick up something that their ears couldn't quite catch.

"It sounds like a phone ringing," Scott said.

"What? Who the hell would be stupid enough to be in here?" Melanie demanded. She paused a beat and then added, "_Besides_ us."

"That's Allison's phone!" Scott gasped.

"Allison?" Melanie repeated. She did her best to keep annoyance out of her words but she wasn't so sure she succeeded when Stiles looked at her. She ignored him. "Why in the world is she here? Are you sure it's her?"

"Yeah, she's not the only one in the world who has that ringtone," Stiles agreed.

"No, it's hers. I know it's hers. I-I can smell her," Scott replied, which earned him strange looks from his companions. Scott set his eyes on Stiles. "Quick, gimmie your phone!"

"You _still_ don't have a new one?" Melanie asked.

Scott ignored her as he jostled Stiles for his. Rolling his eyes, Stiles finally got out his phone and handed it over. Scott nearly snatched it out of his hand and rapidly typed in Allison's number. He furiously ran his hand through his hair and paced as he waited for her to answer. His eyes widened when she finally picked up. "No, it's me, where are you?" Scott demanded. "No, where are you _right now_?" He didn't seem to like her answer and he asked impatiently, "_Where_? Where are you exactly? …Get to the lobby. _Go now._"

"The lobby's this way!" Melanie said, leading the way. If there was one thing she could contribute it was her navigational skills. Her father always said it was like she was born with a compass in her brain. It didn't take long for them to make it out to the lobby. The only light in the room came from the illuminated trophy case.

A few moments later Allison came in through another doorway and jogged over to the group. Scott's questions burst out of him rapid fire as soon as he lay his eyes on her, "Why did you come? What are you doing here?"

"Because you asked me to," she replied, her eyes staying on Scott's face. Stiles and Melanie could have danced around naked and she wouldn't have given them a passing glance.

"I asked you to?" Scott repeated, confused.

Allison dug in her pocket and produced her phone. She clicked around and brought up something for Scott to read. His lips parted slightly which made Melanie exchange a look with Stiles. Allison read Scott's face and her eyes widened slightly. "…Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" she asked quietly.

**"**Because I didn't," Scott insisted.

"Did you drive here?" Stiles burst in.

"Jackson did," Allison replied.

Melanie's breath caught in her throat. "Jackson's here _too_!?" Great, just what they needed, more people running around while a monster was on the prowl.

"And Lydia," Allison replied, clearly losing her patience, "What's going on? Who sent this text?" She glanced down at her phone that had started to ring and brought it up to her ear as she answered, "Where are you?"

They all whirled around as another set of wooden doors opened and Jackson and Lydia burst through. Lydia returned her phone to her purse as they approached the group. "Finally," she said with a sigh. "Can we go now?" Melanie didn't miss the edge to her voice. Whether it was due to seeing the Alpha herself or being stuck in school at night looking for her friends she didn't know.

No one had a chance to move when they heard a creaking above their heads. They all looked up and followed the creaks with their eyes. Then there was a prolonged creaking, like something was about to give. Something like the ceiling.

"Run!" Scott yelled. Stiles grabbed Melanie's hand and they followed Scott and Allison who were ahead of them, Scott pulling Allison along. Behind them plaster and metal crashed to the floor; it thudded once more as the Alpha touched down from crashing through the ceiling. They raced up a nearby flight of stairs and dashed down the hall. The beast chased them the entire way, staying close on their heels. Another exit loomed in front of them; they were running out of time. They had to find a place to hide and quick!

Finally they burst in through the double doors in front of them which dumped them into the cafeteria. Stiles pulled Melanie further away from the door as Lydia, Jackson, Scott, and Allison began stacking the tables and chairs in front of the door. Completely ignoring the full set of windows next to them. Melanie rubbed her face with her hands, as if trying to rub off her fear, as Stiles tried in vain to get everyone's attention. Melanie didn't get it at first, why he was trying to get them to stop blockading the door but then she remembered the car battery sitting in another room. The Alpha could come in but they couldn't get out.

Her blood ran cold.

"Guys!" she called out, trying to get them to listen to Stiles but they were being frantic, still stacking the chairs. "Guys!" she yelled again but they wouldn't listen. She even tried smashing her lacrosse stick against a table but that only made them move faster thinking that the Alpha was coming in from somewhere else.

Stiles continued to try to get their attention until his patience finally ran out and he bellowed, "Hello!" earning four pairs of wide, fear-filled eyes to dart over to him. "Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone. Now - what should we do about the 20 foot wall of windows?" he asked sarcastically and gestured to the windows.

His point slowly dawned on them and Stiles and Melanie watched as they deflated. Allison was the first to crack, directing her attention to Scott as she pleaded, "Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why. Scott?"

Scott pulled away from Allison and joined Stiles and Melanie on the other side of the room. It was then that she noticed a line had been drawn between them and the others. Those in the know and those who knew nothing. A wall of tension filled the space between them as Lydia, Jackson, and Allison stared at them all, waiting for an answer. Melanie held Stiles's gaze and barely inclined her head, letting him know it was okay to say something.

"Somebody killed the janitor," Stiles finally relented.

"What?" Lydia gasped, her voice unnaturally small.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead," Stiles continued.

"What's he talking about? Is this a joke?" Allison asked, a laugh of disbelief wrapping around her words.

"Yeah, Allison, it's a joke!" Melanie snapped, rolling her eyes. "Of course we'd be pulling off an elaborate joke about the _janitor being dead_!" Jackson shot a glare her way but it didn't faze her, not this time. She had no time to coddle someone, not with The Alpha on the loose.

"Who killed him?" Jackson demanded to know. Melanie and Stiles exchanged a glance. Honestly, they had no idea. They knew it was The Alpha but _who_ the Alpha was they still didn't kow.

"No, no, no, no. This was supposed to be over," Lydia said desperately. "The mountain lion killed–"

"No, don't you get it? There wasn't a mountain lion!" Jackson said, exasperated.

"Who was it? What does he want?" Allison asked, her voice cracking slightly due to her desperation. Head tilted down, she rubbed at her hairline while whispering to herself, "What's happeing?" Locking her eyes with Scott's back she called out his name in a firm tone, trying to get any sort of information as she could out of him.

"I - I don't know," Scott cracked, finally speaking up, "I - I just - If - if we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us?" Lydia repeated, her voice higher pitched than it was before. "He's gonna kill _us_?"

"Who?" Allison asked, turning her eyes to Stiles and Melanie who stood by quietly. "_Who is it_?" she demanded to know when neither of them said anything.

Melanie was about to snap at her, that they didn't know _who_ it was and that they were on the same playing field but Scott beat her to it by blurting out, "It's Derek. It's Derek Hale. "

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson asked.

Allison let out a noise of disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"I saw him," Scott replied.

"The mountain li–" Lydia started but Scott cut her off by yelling that Derek had killed them.

"All of them?" Allison asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yeah," Scott insisted, "starting with his own sister."

"The bus driver?" Allison asked.

"And the guy in the video store - it's been Derek the whole time. He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now - He's going to kill us too."

Melanie stood by and watched as an argument swiftly escalated. Jackson wanted Stiles to call the cops but Stiles refused to do so claiming that they didn't know what Derek was armed with and that bringing in police officers may not help. Lydia didn't want to sit by and do nothing so she ended up calling the police herself only to be hung up on warning her that she would be arrested if they call again. Allison wanted them to call again but Stiles shot down that idea claiming that they would send a car to their houses before they sent on to the school. That answer didn't sit right with Allison.

"What the—what - what is this? Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why is he killing anyone?" she asked, her voice shaking in fear.

Melanie swung her eyes over to Stiles. Stiles then looked over at Scott. That prompted everyone else to turn t look at him. As if just noticing the silence he lifted his head and turned to find five pairs of eyes trained on him. "Why's everyone looking at me?" he asked.

"Is he the one that sent her the text?" Lydia asked.

"No. I mean, I don't know," Scott replied.

"Is he the one that called the police?" Allison asked.

"_I don't know!_" Scott exploded.

"Hey, guys, Scott doesn't have all the answers here," Melanie spoke up, trying to ease the tension rising in the room. She could almost see Scott's hear breaking over yelling at Allison. She didn't seem to be taking it well either. "None of us do. We're all in the same boat; we don't know anything."

"That's not new with you, is it Crowe?" Jackson asked, rolling his eyes.

"Now is _not_ the time for this, Jackson!" she snapped, brandishing her stick in front of her. "I have no problem with shoving his horizontally up your nose!"

"Oh yeah, like I'm scared of a munchkin," he said, pushing her stick aside. Clearing his throat he broke up Stiles' and Scott's heated discussion, "Okay, assheads - new plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?"

Melanie glared at him. His rude behavior was not necessary, especially not now. Of course, this was Jackson, he wouldn't be nice to anyone even if they were breathing their dying breaths, which they very well might be doing.

"He's right," Scott spoke up, "tell him the truth if you have to, just - just _call_ him."

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," Stiles said firmly.

"Would you want us to die in his place?" Melanie asked. Stiles looked at her. He looked torn. On one hand it was his dad on but on the other it was his friends and the girl he was in love with. He didn't make his decision fast enough for Jackson strode forward, making the decision for him.

"All right, give me the phone," he ordered, grabbing Stiles's shoulder. Stiles whirled around and punched Jackson across the face. He fell over as Allison rushed to his side.

"Dude…you have not turned me on more than you have in that moment," Melanie commented, her mouth turning up in the corners in surprise as Jackson held his nose.

Stiles gave a humorless laugh as he shook out his hand and then went for his phone himself. Staring Jackson down he pressed number two on his speed dial and waited. "Dad, hey, it's me. And it's your voice mail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now." Melanie jumped at the sudden crashing behind the door. She shuffled forward, grabbed Lydia's arm, and pulled her away while holding her stick out in front of her. "We're at the school. Dad, we're at the school."

They watched in horror as the bangs on the door grew in intensity and the screws holding the locks in began to pop out. Lydia cowered behind Jackson and Allison stepped closer to Scott's side. Melanie didn't want to have to try and use her stick but it seemed as if she was going to need it now to buy them some time.

"The kitchen. The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell," Stiles stated aloud.

"Which only goes up," Scott pointed out.

"Up is better than here."

Another loud bang hit the door which jumpstarted them all to run towards the back door. Melanie paused long enough to look over her shoulder to lock eyes with The Alpha on the other side of the door. The glowing red eyes made her freeze in place, captivated, and she only kept going when Stiles tugged her along and out the room. She could hear that The Alpha had burst into the cafeteria behind them but she kept running with the rest of the group.

They charged up a flight of stairs which took them up to the second floor. One in the hall they tried the closest door on their left but that was locked. Lydia tried the one on their right and they all burst into the Chemistry classroom.

"Man, I don't even like being in here while school's in session," Melanie groaned as Scott hastily propped a chair beneath the door handle. For a moment the sound of them panting was the only noise in the room as they looked around at one another. But then they heard it. The Alpha's growl. They all sucked in their breaths as it slowly walked by the door, its shadow taking up the glass window on the door before it walked past. They all let out sighs of relief.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott whispered.

"Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap," Jackson replied.

Stiles immediately whipped his head over to Melanie who lifted an eyebrow. "Don't even think about it," she grumbled, her cheeks burning at the memory of launching herself onto the lap of one Isaac Lahey.

"Five? I barely fit in the back," Allison hissed.

"Besides, I still have my truck out there, I can take some people too," Melanie pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. There's no getting out without drawing attention," Stiles pointed out.

"What about this?" Scott asked, motioning Stiles and Melanie towards another door in the classroom. "This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds."

"That's a deadbolt," Melanie pointed out.

"The janitor has a key," Scott realized.

"You mean his body has it," Stiles corrected him.

Scott lowered his voice and said, "I can get it. I can find him by scent, by blood."

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else you got?" Stiles said sarcastically.

"I'm getting the key," Scott said firmly, moving around Stiles and Melanie. He didn't say it quiet enough since Allison stopped him, asking if he was serious. "Well, it's the best plan. Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed," Allison said firmly.

Melanie glanced down at the stick in her hands. She had worked so hard to get on the team. Her parents had paid for everything she asked for just to get a chance. And now she had it. But she wouldn't still have it if they were all killed. She closed her eyes, took in a breath, and tapped Scott's shoulder with it. "Here. Take it before I change my mind," she said, holding her stick out to him. "But please try and bring it back in one piece."

Jackson snorted. "Not like you'll need it," he commented.

"I'm warning you, Whittemore!" she growled, starting forward but Stiles held her back.

Scott took the stick and spun it in his hands, getting used to the weight. He then noticed the disapproving expression on Allison's face. "Well, it's better than nothing," he rationed.

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles sighed.

"There is," Lydia said simply, lifting her chin in the direction of the case behind her.

"What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?" Melanie asked.

"No," Lydia replied like the answer was obvious, "Like a fire bomb. In there is everything you need to make a self - igniting molotov cocktail."

"Self - igniting-" Stiles started to repeat.

"Molotov cocktail," Lydia repeated, her words crisp.

"That's…not creepy," Melanie commented, making a face at the conviction Lydia used.

Lydia the noticed that everyone was staring at her. "What? I read it somewhere."

"We don't have a key for that either," Stiles pointed out.

Jackson's eyes turned up to the ceiling then he braced his fist with his palm and then bashed the glass with his elbow. "Hmm, so you _are_ useful," Melanie muttered. He ignored her jab and pulled out the bottles that Lydia instructed him to get.

They watched in silence as she measured and poured together the ingredients she needed into a beaker, barely giving it a second thought. As if she had done this before or she was going off a recipe that had been handed down in her family. Before long she swished the contents in the bottle around and corked it, handing it over to Scott.

"No. No, this is insane, you can't do this. You cannot go out there," Allison protested, her voice hitching. Melanie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, expelling a harsh breath as she drummed her fingers on her arms.

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles' dad to check his messages," Scott reasoned.

"You could _die_. Don't you get that? He's killed _three_ people."

"And we're next if you don't let him go!" Melanie pointed out, not being able to contain herself. Not that it mattered, Allison barely looked at her.

"Somebody has to do something," Scott added.

"Scott, just _stop_," Allison begged, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions. "Do you remember - do you remember when you told me you knew whether or lying? That I had a tell. Well, so do you. You're a horrible liar. And you've been lying all night." Her voice raised and lowered in volume as her emotions began to take over and unshed tears lined up on the lower rim of her eyelids. "Just - just please - please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please."

"Allison, for crying out loud, _someone_ has to go out there and try _something_. Unless you would rather us play a large waiting game with that fucking thing that's going to try and kill us anyway. Scott's already made up his damn mind and he's going to give us a fighting chance. Let him go!" Melanie said, throwing her arms into the air. She ignored the way Stiles was looking at her and ignored the amused expression on Jackson's face at her outburst. But she couldn't help it. Allison was being so selfish and self-centered that it rubbed the last of her nerves raw. He clenched her teeth together and crossed her arms again, as if restraining herself. Someone had to do it.

An uncomfortable silence stretched on that was broken by Allison's sobbing breaths. Scott's jaw set his mind had been made. "Lock it behind me," he ordered and started to walk away but Allison pulled him back to kiss him. He looked so torn after breaking away from her but he still turned away and went out the door.

All that was left to do was to wait.

The silence was becoming unbearable. The only other sound was Allison's sporadic sobs as she tried to calm herself down from her crying fit. Her whispered questions stopped ages ago, thankfully, and she resorted to messing with the hem of her sleeves as some sort of distraction. Stiles moved so he was leaning against a wall by Allison. Jackson leaned against the table she was sitting on and Lydia sat atop of it next to her.

Melanie was the only one away from the group. She messed with her abandoned lacrosse stick, tossing an extra cork into the air only to catch it and toss it up again. Catch, toss, catch, toss, catch, toss, it became a rhythm. She didn't break it even when she peered across the room and noticed Jackson comforting Allison. _Jackson_ comforting _Allison_. It was a jarring sight, especially since Lydia, Jackson's girlfriend, was sitting nearby. If that was what relationships were about she wasn't sure she wanted to be in one.

"Jackson, you handed me the sulfuric acid, right?" Lydia's voice broke the new bout of silence that settled over them. "It has to be sulfuric acid. It won't ignite if it's not."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I gave you exactly what you asked for tonight," he snapped.

"Yeah," Lydia said slowly, looking at the side of his face since he turned away, "Yeah, I'm sure you did."

Melanie's eyes shifted over to the bottles that they had messed with. Two amber colored bottles sat next to one another. She couldn't read their labels from there but it was easy to see that a mistake could have been made and the wrong bottle could have been picked up. She was just glad that Lydia hadn't asked her to get the acid. She turned her attention back to the cork as it fell back down but she hadn't recovered in time. It fell to the floor and bounced around before rolling to a stop at her feet. "Oops," she muttered. She dropped down from the stool she had been sitting on, picked it up, climbed back onto the stool, and started catching the cork again.

"Don't you care?" Allison asked. Melanie turned to see who she was talking to and noticed that her eyes were trained on her.

"Sorry?" Melanie asked.

"Don't you care?" Allison repeated. "Don't you care about anything other than working on your lacrosse stuff?"

"Of course I care," Melanie said stiffly, still tossing and catching the cork.

"Scott's out there risking his neck and the only thing you're doing is…is practicing!" Allison pointed out.

Melanie rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated breath "Trust me; I've noticed that Scott is out there. There's nothing else to do in here but wait and I would rather take my time to do something _while_ I'm waiting instead of wondering incessantly where Scott is."

Allison sniffed and looked away. "You have a funny way of showing it, that's all."

Melanie's temper flared before she could rein it in. She felt a fire burn in her belly and Allison got caught in her crosshairs. "Excuse _me_ for not falling all over the goddamn floor wondering where he is," she spat. "Worrying and whining is not going to make a difference as to what happens. Scott's my friend and maybe in _your_ eyes being his girlfriend makes you more important or more entitled to worry about him but just because I'm not vocal about it doesn't mean I don't care. I've known him longer than you have, _New Girl_, so don't you _fucking dare_ come in here and try to tell me what is or isn't an appropriate amount to worry about a friend because you know jack _shit_!"

A stunned silence fell over the room. Stiles looked half amused and half shocked, Allison looked as if she had been kicked in the stomach, Jackson's bored expression never changed, and Lydia's eyes darted around the room. Of course it was Jackson that would be the one to break the silence. "Hmm, maybe if you were this vocal in bed you would have made first line after all," Jackson commented nonchalantly.

Before Melanie knew what she was doing she had launched herself over the desk in front of her and was flying towards Jackson but Stiles caught her in mid air and carried her back to her seat, thrashing all the way and threatening to cut off Jackson's balls and use that for lacrosse practice instead.

"Whoa, easy. Easy girl," Stiles said as he set her back down on her stool. He held his hand out to her, as if to block her escape as he grabbed another stool and carried it over. He set it down, sighed, rubbed his hands on the knees of his jeans, and peered at her. "What's going on?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," Melanie muttered, lifting her arm to brush her sleeve against her eyes. "S'nothing."

"No, it's something," Stiles replied. "You basically attacked Allison for nothing."

Melanie scoffed. "Not nothing. She's acting like a nitwit who can't function like a normal human being without Scott by her side," she hissed.

"Yeah, she might," Stiles said while rubbing his chin, "but that didn't mean you had to call her out like that."

Melanie set her stick down on the black table top and looked Stiles in the eye. "She questioned how much I cared about Scott and what he was doing," she said, her voice beginning to shake. Whether it was due to suppressed rage or suppressed tears she didn't know. She didn't want to pinpoint it either. "She _questioned_ it, Stiles. Of _course_ I care about Scott. I care about all my friends." She sighed. "That's the fucking problem."

Stiles blinked. "I don't get it."

"Your best friend is here. Scott's best friend is here. Allison's best friend is here. Lydia's best friend is here. Jackson's _girlfriend_ is here," Melanie counted, ticking off her fingers as she went. "Do you want to know what's wrong with this picture?" she asked while holding up her hand.

"Uh…that it's not a full picture?" Stiles guessed, scratching his head.

Melanie rolled her eyes. "That there's one extra," she replied, holding up her index finger on her other hand to show six fingers. "_Me._ All of your friends are here. And where's mine? Huh? Where's _my_ best friend? Oh, that's right. She's at home not talking to me and probably never going to talk to me ever again whether I make it out of here alive." Her eyes began to itch due to the hot tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks but she tilted her head back, as if that was going to keep them in. "My best friend doesn't even know where I am right now. And I don't even know if she'll care because we got into a stupid fight." Her shoulders began to shake as she tried to hold it all in but her resolve was quickly fading as her tears slipped down her cheeks. "My best friend doesn't care. And while you all have _your_ friends here…I may die…not letting her know how much I love her and how much I miss her and how much I want us to be friends again and how much I can't take her being mad at me. I just…I can't take it. I can't! It's not fair!"

"Hey, ssssh. It'll be okay," Stiles said gently. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as her body wracked with sobs. He rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her hair to calm her down. The feeling of his fingertips brushing against her scalp made a shiver roll down her spine and her muscles begin to relax. It was like she was younger and her mom was calming her down after having fallen off her bike and scraping her knee. "Everything will be okay. Ssssh. Scott will figure something out, he always does. And you and your friend will make up and everything will be fine. I mean, who wouldn't want to be friends with you?"

"Her apparently," she replied, her voice muffled by his shirt. She sniffed and blew out a hot breath.

"Hey, if Scott and I can get through our fights you two can too." Melanie lifted her head and smiled sadly at him. "Alright? No more crying?" he asked, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. "Good, 'cause this is as much sympathy as you're' going to get out of me. My specialty is ice cream and tissues." She managed to laugh as he rubbed her shoulder. "What did you two fight about anyway?"

"You," Melanie replied. His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "See, she felt as if…" she paused. She didn't want to out Erica's crush to Stiles but how else was she going to explain their fight. She clicked her tongue and brushed her hair out of her face. "It's just…she, ah, she thought that I was replacing her for you and Scott since she saw us texting so much because of the _thing_." She widened her eyes at the word 'thing' to get her point across without having to say the word.

Thankfully Stiles caught on. "Ah, yeah. I know about that," he said with a sigh. "So, just…maybe talk it out? Or whatever you girls do. If she's really your friend she'll understand that you can have more than one friend." A smug smile appeared on his face as he added, "Not that I blame you for taking us in."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're a real catch."

Then it happened. The Alpha's loud howl rocketed through the building causing them all to cover their ears at the noise. All of them except Jackson. His hand flew up to the back of his neck and he fell down to his knees. Amidst them all calling out for him he began screaming in pain.

Allison and Lydia knelt and lifted Jackson back to his feet as Stiles got up and approached him. Almost as soon as he started screaming he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I'm fine. Like, seriously, I'm okay," he said, shrugging them away.

"That didn't sound okay at all," Allison stated.

"What's on the back of your neck?" Stiles asked, pointing at it. Jackson slapped his hand away. "Dude, it looks bad."

"I said I'm fine," Jackson growled.

"It's been there for days," Lydia informed them. "He won't tell me what happened."

"As if you actually care," Jackson hissed, his voice borderline venomous. Melanie noticed the flash of pain in Lydia's eyes before it disappeared.

"All right, can we not argue for half a second here?" Stiles asked, exasperated.

Allison ran a hand through her hair as she backed towards the door. "Where's Scott? He should be back by now," she murmured. And then there was a peculiar sound. Like a key breaking in a lock. They all turned towards the door to see Scott standing there.

Allison, the closest to the door, called out for him and started to frantically jiggle the door handle to get out. She wrenched the handle up and down, continuing to scream his name and knocked on the door.

"Stop. Stop!" Lydia yelled, successfully stopping Allison's frantic efforts to get out. "Do you hear that? Listen!"

They all stopped to hear what it was that Lydia heard. It was faint at first but then it grew louder by the second. Sirens. They all raced towards the window and stuck their heads out to see police cars swarming in the parking lot.

They all let out sighs of relief. They were finally free of the nightmare.

The police stormed inside and they had to wait for them to break down the door to get to them. Sheriff Stilinski immediately went to check if Stiles was okay before going around the group and then lead them outside into the crisp night air. Melanie took a deep breath, let it inflate her lungs, and breathed out slowly. It felt so good to be alive.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stood by her truck as she waited or Sheriff Stilinski to come out with Scott and Stiles. Stiles decided to stay inside and wait for them to get to Scott while the others were escorted out. Lydia and Jackson stayed huddled together and Allison stood near them. When she and Melanie locked eyes they immediately looked away and then looked back up at the school building. Finally the door opened and Sheriff Stilinski stepped out with Scott and Stiles on his heels. Melanie ran over to them.

"And you're sure it was Derek Hale?" Sheriff Stilinski was asking as Melanie approached.

"Yes," Scott replied.

"I saw him too," Stiles aid which made Melanie's face twisted in confusion. Why were they still going on with the lie? They knew the Alpha wasn't Derek. It wasn't going to make things easier for Scott to accuse him. But Melanie kept her mouth shut and waited to get closer.

"What about the janitor?" Scott asked.

"We're still looking," Sheriff Stilinski replied.

"Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?" Scott stressed.

"Yeah, Scott, we looked. We pulled them out just like you asked, there's nothing."

"I'm not making this up!" he insisted.

"I know. I believe you, I do," Sheriff Stilinski replied, turning once he was at the bottom of the stairs.

"No, you don't," Scott huffed. "You have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you wanna believe me, but I know you don't."

"Listen - We're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him. Okay? I promise."

Sheriff Stilinski was called over by one of the police officers and he ordered both Scott and Stiles to stay put. Melanie took that as her cue to rush forward and throw her arms around Scott's neck. "Thank God you're okay," she breathed into his warm skin as he hugged her back. Pulling away, she stepped back, held him by his arms, and looked him up and down. "You _are_ okay, right?"

"Yeah, I am," he replied.

Nodding, Melanie stepped next to Stiles and rested her head on his shoulder. Suddenly she was really tired, everything from the day came crashing down on her and pulled her eyelids down. Stiles lifted his arm and draped it around her shoulders as he said, "Well, we survived, dude. You know? We outlasted the alpha. It's still good, right? Being alive?"

What should have been a celebratory moment wasn't. Tension was still thick in the air, pressing down on their shoulders. It kept Scott's eyes dark, like a hood had been pulled over his face and shielded him. Kept him from being able to shake it away.

Melanie frowned. "What's up?" she asked, sensing his distress.

"When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us," Scott pointed out. "You don't think that it heard us? You don't think it knew exactly where we were?"

"Well, then how come we're still alive?" Stiles asked.

"It wants me in its pack." The distress on his face intensified. "But I think, first - I have to get rid of my old pack."

"What do you mean? What old pack?" Stiles asked the question that shot through Melanie's mine. Packs were of those of his kind, weren't they? And they were all humans, so they couldn't count. Right?

"Allison. Jackson, Lydia," Scott listed. His eyes shifted over to Melanie and she gulped. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, in sadness and regret. "Melanie." She bit down on her lip and her eyes dropped as fast as her heart. "You," he directed at Stiles.

Stiles's mouth fell open. He looked as if his world had just crumbled around him. How was someone supposed to process that? That their friend was going to have to get rid of their friends to survive? Melanie had to give him credit; he reacted much calmer than she would have if her best friend told her the same thing. But it was the look of realization, of reluctant acceptance that made her take pause more than what conclusion his mind had come to. "The alpha doesn't wanna kill us."

Scott sighed and turned away. Melanie's eyes moved back and forth between the two and then realization hit her with a sickening thud in her chest. "It wants me to do it," Scott spoke, his back to them, his voice as soft as the air that brushed against them. "And that's not even the worst part."

"How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?" Stiles asked, exasperated. The worry in his voice didn't go unmissed by them.

"Because when he _made me_ shift - I _wanted_ to do it. I wanted to _kill_ you. All of you."

Melanie swallowed the lump in her throat, reached out her hand, and squeezed his. "But you _didn't_," she pointed out. Her words weren't as much of a comfort as she was going for since Scott still, dejectedly, looked down at his feet and Stiles rubbed his hands over his head. She wished there was something she could say to make everything better, something she could _do_ but she was as powerless now as she was in the classroom and she could only sit back and watch from afar.

When Scott finally lifted his head it wasn't to offer comforting words or encouragement that he would never do such a thing, no, it was to see his boss sitting in the back of an ambulance getting treated by EMTs. Melanie stayed behind as Stiles and Scott rushed over to them. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shrink away from the cold air and gazed around the parking lot.

Jackson and Lydia were leaning against his car. His arms were wrapped tightly around her as she buried her face into his chest. His eyes were closed tight, his cheek pressed against the side of her head. They didn't move. They didn't speak. They just held one another, glad to have survived the night and still have one another. Melanie pressed her lips together. She always wondered what it was that made them interested in one another and then date one another and then become a couple. Jackson was a harsh, sharp-tongued, judgmental boy while she was a mentally sharp, fearless, and sassy force of nature. But before her eyes she finally saw it.

Love. They _loved_ each other. They accepted each other's flaws without question and loved each other regardless. No matter how many times Jackson put her down or how many times Lydia verbally stroked his fears of being inferior they did care for each other a lot. More than anyone she had ever seen before. More than her own parents.

Startled, Melanie blinked and shook her head from side to side, ignoring the ache as she tried to dislodge the offending thought. But it was stuck. It dug its claws into her brain and stayed rooted to the spot, holding on with all its might, jump starting the ache in her chest. How was that possible? That two students, that two _kids_ had a better grasp of love than her own parents?

She tore her eyes away. They landed on a new sight, of Allison and Scott talking to one another. But the love there was gone. Her arms were crossed, blocking his words. Her face was set in stone, dodging his emotions. The air around her was cold, much colder than the actual wind blowing around; Melanie could feel it all the way from where she stood. Desperation leaked out of every orifice on Scott's body and through the way he held himself up and leaned towards her. Melanie could tell what was happening before his body broke down, crushed by Allison's words.

She gritted her teeth and tensed her muscles to stay where she was despite the overwhelming urge to do something. Surely her yelling at Allison before didn't help matters. She took one step forward and then stopped herself, spinning around on the spot as she grabbed at her hair, trying to reason with herself that whatever was going on wasn't _her_ problem. But Scott looked so sad…

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Melanie didn't even realize the words had come out of her mouth or that she had moved to Scott's side. She blinked and she was just there. Even so she still nodded her head over in Allison's direction where she stood by the exit of the parking lot, looking up the street to see if her father's car was coming.

"I-I don't know. I don't…" Scott's didn't finish his sentence, or couldn't. His face crumpled in pain as he grabbed at his hair. Melanie patted his arm and made the choice for him.

She jogged across the parking lot towards the girl but slowed as she approached. What was she going to say? 'Hey, sorry that I lost my patience with you and bit your head off all because you were concerned about your boyfriend like a normal human being?' Yeah, _that_ was going to go over well. Thankfully she didn't have to worry for long for the first thing that shot out of her mouth when she was within earshot of Allison was, "So, crazy night, right?" Allison glanced at her over her shoulder, an unreadable expression on her feet. Melanie tapped the sides of her closed hands together and ran her tongue along her teeth but that didn't stop her word-vomit. "Being chased around by some psycho creature. And at school of all places! These things only happen in TV, right? …S'weird."

Allison tossed her hair over her shoulder. "What do you want?" she demanded, cutting through the small talk. "Did Scott send you over here?"

"No, I came over myself," Melanie replied, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I wanted to…apologize," she uttered. "For….y'know, for what I said. Well, _yelled_."

"What did I do to you?" Allison asked, her voice thick with restrained emotion. "What did I _ever_ do to you?

"Nothing," Melanie admitted, sighing heavily.

"Well, you clearly don't like me—"

"Not much, no."

"—so I must have done _something_ to you."

"I…you…" Melanie growled, tilting her head back so it was directed up at the sky. "Allison, you transferred in at the beginning of the new semester and fit in right away. Like you've been here forever. Like you've always been a part of Beacon Hills. You…you're smart, you're kind, you're _annoyingly_ pretty"—Allison cracked a smile—"you have the best clothes, you became friend with _Lydia_ right off the bat, you got Scott enamored with you in no time flat, you—"

"Wasn't this supposed to be an apology?" Allison cut in.

Melanie huffed. "It _is_. I just…okay. Allison, I know I came off as crass back in there. It had nothing to do with you; I was mad and scared that…that I would die without making up with my best friend. And I was mad that you all had someone there with you and I didn't. And…and seeing you and Scott so worried about each other and everything…I exploded. So…I'm sorry."

Allison clicked her tongue. She brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at Melanie from beneath her eyelashes. "Is this…are you, I mean…do you like Scott?"

"I liked his _muffin_, people!" Melanie cried out, throwing her arms into the air. "His _muffin_! …And I realize now that that's not the best thing to yell out loud."

Allison giggled. "Yeah, probably not," she agreed. She scratched behind her ear. "It kinda sucks, though…" she mused aloud.

"What?" Melanie asked, afraid of what she was going to say.

"It's just that…I kinda thought we got along sometimes. I thought we could be friends." Allison rocked back and forth on her feet, lowered her voice and said, "Between you and me, Lydia's my best friend and all, but sometimes I need a break from her."

"Yeah, but you have Scott for that," Melanie replied.

The smile on Allison's face slowly faded and she pursed her lips. "_Had_," she corrected. "I, uh, broke up with him. I guess…"

"Ah," Melanie replied. There was nothing else she could say to that. She had never dumped anyone or been dumped by anyone or _been_ with anyone so she didn't know how to tread that ground. She found herself awkwardly patting Allison on the back as some sort of solution. "Maybe…we can…_try_…" Melanie offered.

Allison's eyes clouded over in confusion. "Uh…I'm not into girls, Melanie," she stated.

"That wasn't what I was suggesting," Melanie replied. "I meant maybe we can give being friends a shot."

Allison blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, although I have to be honest it's partially because you have some clothes that I've had my eye on and also I want an excuse to see your dad." At Allison's head tilt she continued, "Dude, he's effin' hot."

"Oh my god, shut up!" Allison cried out, slapping her on the arm.

"Hey, I can't help it. The Argents have good genes," Melanie defended, holding her hands up. The smile slowly faded from her face. She glanced over her shoulder to see Scott staring at them and sighed. "But, hey, with the Scott thing…he was really only trying to protect us, okay? Just…just remember that." Allison nodded but she didn't seem convinced. Melanie nodded herself and began to back away from her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a friend to win back."

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Well? What did you think? I loved writing this chapter, if you couldn't tell. Not only because I thought this was a fun episode but also because of the Allison/Melanie scene at the end. You get a glimpse of why Melanie is a bit frosty with Allison but friendly with her at the same time. Like everyone else, their dynamic is something that I find very interesting to write and something that I will continue to touch on and develop in the future.

And for those who are rootin for Erica and Melanie to make up, just wait for the next chapter!

Also, if you have a spotify account follow me (mackintosh22) and you'll find an Underneath it ALl playlist! And if you want some _UIA_ updates or want to see some gif sets or edits for the story go to my tumblr [mack-intosh dot tumblr dot com] and search for the teen wolf or underneath it all tag (add /tagged/teen wolf or /tagged/underneath-it-all). I'll have plenty of sneak peeks and stuff there. Also message me there or here if you have any questions! I love talking to you guys.


	13. Ruffled Feathers

**Chapter 13: Ruffled Feathers **

It was a hard feat for Melanie to convince her parents to let her leave the house the next day to go visit Erica. With the school being closed for investigation and to clean up the mess, she thought it was a blessing in disguise. It would give her enough time to try and fix the rift in their relationship. She had a lot of time to think about it on her drive back home that night. She had come back to her home after the Alpha attack to be bombarded at the door by her angry parents. It was the last thing she expected because, for once, they weren't angry at each other, they were angry at _her_.

"You didn't come into work! We didn't know where you were! We had to hear from the _police department_ that you were at school and were _attacked_?" Arabella had exploded once she checked Melanie over and was sure that no harm had come to her. Melanie could tell her anger was fueled by her fear that something had happened. The tears streaking down her face gave her away.

"What were you doing at school after hours?" Laurence had demanded to know.

"I, uh…forgot my lacrosse stick," Melanie explained, glad that she had the sport tool on her to give her an alibi. "Didn't want to leave it so Stiles and Scott came back with me. The, uh, the school's kinda creepy at night." She turned to leave the foyer, making a face at her lie as she tried to rush away.

"And the others? Jackson, Lydia, Allison? Why were they there?" Laurence had asked, temporarily making her freeze on the stairs at his question.

Melanie's eyes darted around. They paused briefly on the pictures of their family through the years on the walls before lowering to the lacrosse stick in her hand. "Jackson…forgot his too! They were hanging out when Jackson came by and, well, you know the rest. So, I'm just going to put my stuff away and then go see Erica."

"Oh no you're not," Arabella had said, stopping Melanie at the top of the stairs with her conviction. "You're going to stay _right here."_

Melanie gaped at her. "But Mom, she—"

"Melanie! You didn't show up at work! You broke into the school. You were _attacked_ by a murderer! And you think we're going to let you leave the house?" Arabella climbed the stairs until she stood on the top landing and looked down on Melanie. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Mom! You can't be serious!" Melanie cried out, indignant. Arabella didn't respond. Instead she turned and started back down the stairs. Melanie leaned over the railing of the landing and looked to her father. "Dad?" she begged, "back me up here!"

"Don't bring your father into this, Melanie," Arabella said without turning around, her voice clipped.

"I'm with your mother on this one," Laurence replied, sighing. "You're staying here. Erica can see you tomorrow."

"But Dad—"

"We'll talk about this later."

The air in the Crowe house was thick with tension after that. Melanie understood their worries and concerns but they just didn't _get_ how much the night made her realize that she needed to see Erica. That she needed her friend to listen to her and understand what had happened and how much she cares and for her and loves her and wants to be friends again. She _needs_ to be friends again. The fact that she could have died that night without patching things up made her sick to her stomach. But her parents wouldn't budge, no matter how many teenage clichés she threw at them to try and guilt them into it. For once they were a united front. It was annoying.

The next morning she tried again to let them let her go. Which was hard being that she barely slept that night, waking up screaming every few hours due to having a recurring dream of the Alpha chasing her. She scraped at least four hours of collective sleep together but that didn't matter to her. She needed to see Erica. The school was closed so she had nowhere to be, yes she did her homework, yes she would go to her music lesson later, yes she would be home before night fell, and yes she would understand the consequences she would suffer if she didn't answer her phone when they called. By the time they finally relented and let her go she flew past them out the door and peeled out of her driveway. She was surprised that her tires didn't squeal and leave a rubber burn mark on the asphalt.

It didn't take long for her to reach Erica's house, her foot was almost glued to the gas pedal. All momentum she had come slamming to a stop once she jumped out of her truck and set foot in the Reyes driveway. Everything she had carefully planned to say to Erica fell out of her head and sounded stupid. Besides, what if Erica _still_ didn't forgive her? What then? She just…moves on and forgets their seven years of friendship like that? She had other friends to fall back on but Erica had no one besides her mother.

She blew out a breath, pushed out all the negative thoughts that rooted her to the spot, and marched up to the front door of the Reyes home. Mrs. Reyes opened the front door before she even had a chance to knock.

"I was wondering when you would come again," she stated with a smile.

"My mom called you didn't she?" Melanie asked, already knowing the answer.

"As soon as you left, yes," Mrs. Reyes replied, stepping aside to let Melanie into their home. Melanie moved past her and was immediately enveloped by the warmth that could only be achieved by a warming stove. Taking pause, she noticed the scent of chocolate in the air and tried to hide a smile. Brownies were always made whenever she came over; surely Erica wouldn't turn her away now. Her sweet tooth was almost as big as Melanie's.

Mrs. Reyes ran a hand over her hair, which was pulled back into a bun, and then clasped her hands together. "She wanted to make sure I ushered you out in time for your music lesson. She said you had a rough night and thought that returning to your routine would help you out."

Melanie clicked her tongue. "Goes to show my mom's priorities are in strange places as usual," she commented.

"She just wants to be sure she knows where you are," Mrs. Reyes replied, reaching out to smooth down Melanie's hair.

Melanie regarded her. "You know," she stated.

"Yeah, I do. Arabella called me last night after you went to sleep. I'm glad to hear that you're okay. You and the others." Mrs. Reyes sighed. "Something like this happening in Beacon Hills…? I thought everything would stop after the mountain lion was killed."

"Yeah, you and everyone else," Melanie agreed, tearing her eyes away. After knowing everything that was going on the mountain lion excuse was feeble at best. Surely people couldn't still believe that Derek Hale alone was able to kill that many people, werewolf or not. He was one, yes, but he wasn't an Alpha. He didn't have enough power to cause deaths so gruesome. Not that that mattered now, not with Scott putting a warrant on him. She needed to talk to him about that. "But maybe now it's all stopped. Look, I'm alive and so are the rest of us. We're fine. But…me and Eri aren't and I came here to fix that."

Mrs. Reyes nodded her head. A wistful smile appeared on her face. "You really care about her, don't you?" she asked.

Melanie blinked. What kind of question was that? Mrs. Reyes knew just how much she cared about her best friend, and then some. But she still found herself answering the question. "Yeah, I do. She's my best friend. I love her to death. I can't even begin to imagine not having her around. The last few days have been Hell. I never wanted to hurt her."

"Yes, I know. And deep down I think she knows as well," Mrs. Reyes said, a pink flush appearing on her round cheeks. "Between you and me I missed having you around. This house hasn't been silent since you and your family moved into town and it's a bit unsettling. Here, take some brownies and bring them up to her. I'll come up with some milk for you."

"Thanks Mrs. Reyes." Melanie followed her into the kitchen and took a large whiff of the baking treats. Mrs. Reyes put on a slightly worn oven mitt and pulled out the brownie tray. She set it atop of the stove and removed the divider that was placed in them which cut them into nine equal sized portions. Then she set four on a plate and ushered Melanie out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Once outside the door she gathered her wits and knocked on the door. "Erica, it's me," Melanie called out.

"Mel, go _away_!" Erica yelled back almost immediately.

"Eri, come on. You're seriously going to turn me away after the night I had?" She hadn't meant to play the guilt card but the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"You forgot your lacrosse stick at school. If you ask me you—"

"Deserve it?" Melanie cut her off. If that's what Erica was going to say she would rather be the one to say it that deal with the pain of it coming from Erica's mouth. "I deserved to be trapped in a school with a psycho that tried to kill us all because you're mad at me? Really, Eri? _Really_?" Erica didn't respond. "So you're perfectly fine with the idea of me having potentially died last night all because you're pissed at me? You'd be able to sleep soundly?" Melanie paused, waiting to hear something, _anything_, but she still got silence in respond. "Okay, fine. I'll leave you alone then. And I'll get a bellyache from eating all your brownies and I'll be happy about it, Erica. And if I puke I'm going to throw up on the carpet out here to go with that other puke stain in your basement when I ate too much of your birthday cake when we were eleven even though I didn't like it but I wanted to be polite."

She held her breath. Still nothing. Dejected, her shoulders slumped and she turned to walk away. She didn't get too far since the doorknob turned and Erica appeared at the door. Her hair was dry and unkempt, bags sat beneath her eyes, her skin was dotted with acne here and there, and baggy sweats hung off her frame.

"You're threatening to puke on my carpet?" she demanded.

"It's better than my Plan B," Melanie admitted.

"What was Plan B?"

"Piss on it."

Erica's lips twitched ever so slightly in the corner. Melanie caught it despite Erica's best efforts in hiding it after hearing her answer. Melanie lifted up the plate and wiggled it around in an attempt to entice her. "So, am I allowed in? Brownies shouldn't be eaten alone," she said and bit down on her lip. Erica didn't reply but she moved out of the way of the door, dropping down on her bed. Melanie slipped into the room and closed the door behind her with her foot. She set the plate of brownies down on the bed and sat down on the edge. "Erica, you have everything all wrong—"

"I know," Erica interrupted her, making Melanie splutter before cutting off the end of her sentence. "I'm not mad at you about that. Not anymore." She pushed her hand through her hair but it didn't move. She dropped her hand back into her lap. "I hadn't really been that mad about it, actually. I knew you wouldn't go after someone I liked."

"So how come you haven't been talking to me? And how come you didn't come to school?" Melanie demanded, shifting further up the bed after kicking off her shoes. She crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees.

Erica blew out a breath. It ruffled her bangs a little but otherwise left them untouched. "You didn't do anything," she said, "I was just…jealous, I guess." Melanie blinked, a million questions flashing through her eyes and Erica stopped her before she could ask anything. "I was jealous of how…easy it is for you to be friends with people and how everyone likes you and how close you've gotten to people." She stopped and brought the sleeve of her sweats up to her eye, dabbing at the tears that had begun to collect on the rim.

Melanie grasped her hand between both of hers before Erica could set it back down. She rubbed it between her palms, noticing how bony her hand felt between the fabric surrounding it. "Eri, did you think I was replacing you?" she asked quietly. Erica sniffed and turned her head away, her hair curtaining around her face, blocking it off. Melanie raised Erica's hand to her mouth and gave it a kiss. "Oh, Eri, I could never replace you! You're my best friend! We've been through so much; I'm not just going to toss you aside for someone else."

"It's just…it kinda felt like it…"

Melanie huffed and dropped Erica's hands only to reach out, grasp Erica's chin, and turn her head until they were looking each other in the eye. "Listen," she said, her voice stern, "I love you, Erica. You're my best friend in the entire world. I like meeting new people and making new friends but the thing is that I _try_. I _try_ to befriend new people. I _try_ to get to know new people. You don't try. I'm sorry to say but it's the truth, you don't try. You hold yourself back from letting others see the amazing Erica that I know you can be. And that…that _frustrates_ me so much because you're awesome! You're super nice, you're witty, you're caring, you're smart, you're beautiful. And I've told you all this for years but the problem is that _you_ don't believe that and you're stopping yourself from being the Erica you want others to like. You can't keep blaming your epilepsy or your medication. It hasn't taken away the ability for you to just say 'hi' to others, has it? No. That's a choice that you make on your own. And I don't want to be punished for spending time with my other friends because you're afraid to put yourself out there. Okay?"

"Okay," Erica replied, nodding her head in such a manner Melanie was surprised that it didn't bobble right off her neck and land in her lap. "I get it. Just…can we be friends again? Please?" There was a sense of urgency and desperation in her voice that struck Melanie right in the chest.

Melanie leaned back on her hands. "I don't know about you, but I never stopped considering you my friend," she replied with an earnest smile. Erica leaned forward and pulled Melanie into a bone-crushing hug. She laughed and hugged her friend back, squeezing as hard as she could. There was no better feeling in the world than hugging your best friend, after all. "Now, do you want a brownie? 'Cause I can't promise that I won't eat all these by myself," she said, holding up the plate.

Erica's eyes swept over them and then she shook her head. "No, my mom made them for you, you have them," she said and leaned back against the pillows, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Melanie's eyebrows furrowed. "Er, brownies are your favorite dessert. Are you _sure_ you don't want any?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. Tell me about what happened. Mom said something about being stuck in a school with a murder?"

Melanie nodded, chewed up the bit of brownie in her mouth, swallowed, and launched into the story. Well, the story that she, Scott, and Stiles agreed to be told: that she had forgotten her lacrosse stick and recruited them to go back with her because there's safety in numbers and everything. They had gotten locked in and tried to find the janitor when they were chased by Derek Hale. They wound up meeting up with Allison, Jackson, and Lydia who had come back for Jackson's lacrosse stick and for Allison to find Scott when they came across Derek again. They locked themselves in a classroom and Scott went to find a way out when the police finally showed up to help them out. Erica listened with wide eyes, enraptured by her story. By the time she finished Erica began beating her with her pillow for being so "stupid" as to put herself in danger all for a lacrosse stick.

"Well I'm fine, obviously, so you can stop punishing me!" Melanie called out from under the attack. Erica finally stopped and when Melanie sat up straight, her hair was mussed and stuck out over her head. She ran her fingers through it to fix it. "So, anyway, after all that happened Allison and Scott broke up. Or are taking a break or something."

"Like _Friends_ taking a break or _actually_ taking a break?" Erica asked.

"I think actually taking a break. Allison said they 'broke up' but let's be real here, they're too into each other for them to actually break up."

"Why'd they break up?"

"Allison said she couldn't trust him; that he'd been lying to her all night and keeping her in the dark. But, c'mon, that's Scott. He'd rather lie to someone to keep them happy than to have to carry the weight of making them unhappy on his shoulders. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"Yeah, well, they did kind of rush things. They've only known each other, what, a little more than a month?"

"Yeah. Anyway!" Melanie got comfortable on the bed. "With school closed today and tomorrow I know some kids will be happy about it—"

"Ecstatic, even," Erica added.

"—but when we get back to school I know people will be bummed and not just 'cause we have to go back to doing school work and stuff and also because we had a murder in the school. So, since Valentine's Day is two days after we get back I was thinking of asking the principal to partner up with my mom's shop so we can send out flower grams to people. Something to cheer everyone up."

"I like that idea," Erica said, nodding. "But it _is_ only two days."

"Yeah, but that'll be enough. I'll e-mail the principal today and then the Student Life Committee can send out a blast e-mail with prices and stuff. It'll drum up enough interest, trust me."

"What are you going to do with the proceeds?"

"I don't know, maybe split it? Half goes to Mom and half goes to the school. The music program could do with some money." Rolling backwards off the bed, Melanie moved over to Erica's desk, grabbed a pen and a piece of stationary, and climbed back onto the bed. "Help me brainstorm. I want to get a few options down before my lesson."

_**# # #**_

Melanie's fingers flew up and down the row of black and white keys, which were cool to the touch. The notes came out in rapid succession, wrapping around her in a cocoon that took her through the somber tones and light harmonies of the song. A smattering of trills and arpeggios punctuated the song amidst the tick, tick, ticking metronome that sat atop of the piano, keeping her in time. Her eyes glanced up from the keys briefly to check where she was in the song and then went back down to make sure her finger placement was right. She barely nodded her head but the motion was caught by her instructor who leaned over and turned the page for her.

The song came to a close. The somber notes slowly transformed over to the higher notes, washing away the deep resonating tones and replaced it with a light, airy cadence that resonated at the end of the song. Melanie let the collection of notes hold out before slowly releasing the sustaining pedal. The music faded into the still air of the practice room, slowly unraveling the cocoon around her and brought her back to the present, like a fog being lifted in her mind. The tick, tick, tick, of the metronome continued on.

"There were a few stumbles here and there but I can definitely hear some improvement," Mr. Abbott, the instructor, said as he clasped his together.

"Yeah, I got finger tied on some of the arpeggios," Melanie agreed.

"And that can be fixed over time," he said while reaching forward and closed the book that they had been working on. "For the end of the lesson we will be playing a duet, just to cool you down. Watch your hand positions; I notice that sometimes you shake your hands out after playing a few songs."

"Yeah, because they get cold," Melanie replied, holding her hands up and flexed her fingers. "Like, when I come in they start out warm but after a few songs they get cold but then they get warm again."

"That's because of the way you're holding your hands," Mr. Abbott replied, pulling a book out of the bag on the floor next to them. "If you hold your hands in a position for too long, in a wrong position, it limits the blood flow to your fingers which makes your hands appear cold. If you hold them in the right position throughout the pieces then you won't have to worry about that in the end. This is also why we talk about proper posture."

Melanie made a face. "Holding perfect posture is so _annoying_," she muttered. "Making sure my back is straight and my arms are straight and blah blah blah!"

Mr. Abbott chuckled and opened the book, setting it up on the built-in ledge. "Now you know good posture will only help you improve your skills in the long run," he pointed out. "And it helps your body over all. Much like how they tell you that sitting up straighter at school or work benefits you in the long run, it can help you here. You'll pull your shoulders back and keep your head up higher and stand taller and appear to have more confidence in your stance." He paused and then added with a twinkle in his eye, "It may also add some height to your frame."

Melanie laughed and shook her head. "You did not just go there! You and I both know I'm stuck at this height, or lack thereof, for the rest of my life."

"You never know. Proper posture could add a couple more inches."

"Then I can finally realize my dream of being let on my favorite roller coaster ride at DisneyWolrd," Melanie quipped. She straightened herself on her seat. "Okay, what are we playing?"

"Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol," Mr. Abbott replied. The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled. "You kids are into this kind of music, yeah?"

"Oh yes, sometimes we kids like to take a break from our hippity-hop music to listen to some slow jams," she agreed, straightening her posture on the bench. She waited for him to reset the metronome, setting the pace for the song. She already had the melody playing in her head as soon as she heard the name of the song they'd be playing. It was one of her favorites, in fact. The song was simple in its structure but the lyrics were heavy and carried a weight that stuck with her long after the last strains of the piano ended.

She flexed her fingers and rested them on the keys. She counted off the beat and then began playing the opening notes in succession. Mr. Abbott joined in when they hit the first chorus, meshing the chords together.

It didn't take long for her to get into the groove, get lost in the simple melodies of the song. She found herself leaning and rocking as she played along, closing her eyes to get fully immerse herself into the music.

"_I don't quite know…how to say…how I feel…_" Melanie sang along, matching the tone as well as her voice would handle. It wasn't hard but she wasn't going to pretend that singing a song in a register for a man when she had a lighter voice was going to come to her right on the nose. She adjusted where she needed to and felt the words as she sang along. "_Those three words…are said too much…they're not enough…_"

A smile blossomed on her face once they reached the chorus, hearing the notes get punched up as the song moved further along. That was her favorite part of the song, hearing everything come together and become so amped up that you couldn't help but feel _good_ as you sang along and wondered about that companion being with you. "_If I lay here, if I just lay here would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told, before we get too old; show me a garden that's bursting into life._"

They played straight through the rest of the song, Melanie singing along the entire time. She was just feeling the song, as she always did with music. She felt the emotions and the ideas that were carefully constructed and crafted to form the song. It was a good escape, taking her mind away from the haunting experiences of the night before and the supernatural world that she had experienced as a whole to that point. It took her to another place, a peaceful state of mind where she could let everything go and just be.

It always made her sad when the music had to come to an end.

She carefully removed her hands from the piano keys and dropped them into her lap, taking her time to come back to the present. She opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering, and glanced over at her instructor to see if he had any sort of critique only to notice him staring at her, a faraway look in his eye. "Mr. Abbott?" she called out, waving a hand in his face. "Yoo hoo! Anyone home?"

Mr. Abbot blinked, coming back to the present as if he were in a trance, and then smiled. "You did a beautiful job," he replied. "A few places were a bit rushed but you got your bearings. But you could tell that you were feeling the song and that's what's important. If you feel it then everyone else will too, regardless of the mistakes you make." He paused. "You have a gift, Melanie. You can do a lot with your voice; singing is just one of them. I want you to remember that, you're not limited with the voice you have."

_**# # #**_

The warm blanket of steam and hot water wrapped around Melanie as she stood beneath the shower head later that night, letting the warm water trickle down over her head and shoulders. Gooseflesh rose up on her arms once the warm water touched her cold skin and it made her breath out in satisfaction and relief. Her stresses and worries of the day slipped off her shoulders and slid down the drain with the soap that covered her body.

Once her front was clean she turned around and lifted her hair to get her back, only to hiss at the burst of pain that exploded along her back. She stumbled forward, arching her back to keep it away from the water as the sting throbbed beneath the surface of her skin.

"What the…?" she muttered, bringing her wet hair over her shoulder. She brushed the dripping water off her face and did her best to turn and see what it was that caused pain on her back. Did she get a bruise from the night before? Did she get scratched without noticing? Or worse, bitten? Her heart skipped a beat. _Did_ she get bitten? But then a moment later her mind calmed down. No, that wasn't possible. She would notice if an alpha werewolf had bitten her, _especially_ on the back, and she couldn't even imagine that Scott would be _that_ kinky to do something like that.

Turning back around, she leaned forward to turn off the water only to expose her back and feel the pain once more. Gritting her teeth, she managed to twist the knob, successfully shutting off the water. Sticking her arm past the curtain, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling of the towel rubbing against her back.

She jumped out and, leaving wet footprints on the tiles, she wiped off as much condensation on the mirror as she could. Once she could see her reflection with little trouble, she turned and lowered her towel only for her eyes to bug out at the sight.

Two red, inflamed scratches lay on her pale kin, right between her shoulder blades. She reached around and poked at it, cringing at the pain that shot through her. "What in the world…?" she muttered, staring hard at it. How did that happen? There was no way that could have come out of her sleep. She had started to turn away when something caught her eye. Something was sticking out of one of the scratches.

Contorting herself, Melanie managed to grab a hold of it. It was hard and had a point on the end. Her eyebrows furrowed. She grasped it and pulled, only to scream at the pain that exploded and nearly made her fall to her knees.

"Melanie? Melanie, sweetie, are you alright?" Arabella yelled through the bathroom door only a moment later.

"Yeah! I just, ah…the floor's cold," Melanie yelled back, cringing. Seriously, that was the best her mind could come up with? She was lucky that her parents didn't seem to follow up on her lies rather than chose to follow up on how weird she appeared to be.

"Bring slippers in next time," Arabella replied. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Okay!"

Melanie waited to hear the sound of her mother's footsteps to fade away before she stood upright. Grabbing a dry washcloth she twisted it up and stuck it in her mouth, holding it between her teeth. Reaching around, she grabbed at the object sticking out of her back again, gritted her teeth, and pulled. A scream lodged at the back of her throat as she steadily pulled the object out, breathing heavily through her nose to try and combat the pain. Little by little it slid out, covered in blood. A few drops landed on the bright white floor and by the time it slid free she was on her knees, gasping for air.

Her body began to tremble as she got acclimated to the quickly dropping temperature. Holding the towel closer to her body, she slowly lifted her arm to see what it was that was in her hand. Her breathing came out shaky when she was finally able to decipher what it was around the blood.

A feather.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Well? What did you think? Erica and Mel are friends again! Yay! I can't wait for you guys to see what I have planned for Valentine's Day. It's going to be big! And Mel found a feather. From her _back_. Cool, huh? Things are certainly getting stranger around Beacon Hills aren't they? Please read and review!


	14. Moonstruck

**Chapter 14: Moonstruck**

Monday arrived with cop cars dotting the parking lot to ensure that nothing would happen as the students returned to school that gray skied morning. They stood around in the parking lot, talking to each other or into walkie talkies attached to their uniforms. Teachers hung around the front doors, standing guard as the students trickled inside.

Whispers flowed between students about the events that had gone on over the course of the "long weekend." Reporters had shown up at the doors of those involved, trying to get a soundbite, but they wouldn't talk so the rest was up to speculation. Rumors and stories were spun from the destroyed window of Mr. Harris's chemistry classroom and the new tiles in the ceiling and the newly painted and cleaned door in the locker room.

Melanie tried to fall back into the normal routine but it was hard. Her mind kept jumping back to that night. It kept going back to the Alpha attacking them and Scott locking them in the classroom and the realization that it didn't want Scott to have his own pack. What did that mean? Would Scott lose control and attack them all one night? What if he couldn't fight against his werewolf impulses?

And what happened to Derek? He was gone when they all managed to get outside and the police department went looking for him. So he wasn't as dead as they all thought he was but where was he now? And more importantly, was he safe?

The story of that night spread like wildfire but by the time a few periods had gone by the break in and attack was old news and it was like nothing ever happened. Part of that was due to Greenberg splitting his pants in the middle of the cafeteria and part of that was due in part to the word going around about the Valentine's flower sale that Melanie was putting together. She was elated to see that her plan was working. They'd be making a lot of money in no time.

Members of the Student Life Committee swapped out table-sitting throughout the day during their free periods. Melanie had Isaac's and Erica's help for one of them but it was the last one for her, near lunch, where she table-sat by herself. She didn't mind, she needed the time to process what she and the others had gone through, not having the "long weekend" to do it since her mother filled it with activities for her.

She moved on autopilot as she pointed out the directions to fill out the forms, her mind going at light speed as she tried to figure out who the Alpha was. It couldn't be Dr. Deaton; he was too nice to be the Alpha. He was too caring to be the Alpha. He wouldn't just go around killing people. Yeah, once the werewolf sense took over it was hard to control but Scott could do it and he didn't run around killing people. It just couldn't be him. Deep down she knew it wasn't. But that didn't narrow down who it was either. Not that the list was particularly long in the first place.

Melanie sighed and tapped her pen against her notebook. Or her Wolf Notebook. Everything written in it was werewolf related starting from facts that she learned from her books to facts that Scott, Derek, and the Alpha confirmed for her, to wild theories that she had. She even put a list of known werewolves around the area down, which was only Scott and Derek that she knew for sure. But then some others in his family had to be werewolves too, right? If he was born one? Or so Scott said. Even so, she added Mr. Harris to the list as well. If he wasn't a vampire that didn't mean he wasn't a werewolf, she reasoned. But then what was the connection to the murderers?

"Hey, asshat, wipe the vacant expression off your face…if you can," Jackson commented. Melanie blinked, looked up at him, and then slammed her notebook shut, hastily putting it away. A smirk curled upon his lips. "Writing smutty fanfiction in your free time? Hmm? Gotta find a way to get your rocks off, right? Since no one's lining up at your door."

"Yeah, that may be the case but should someone show up there's no wait time," Melanie said evenly. She blinked, thought her words over for a moment, and then shrugged. She may have implied that she would jump into bed with someone but as long as Jackson didn't come to that conclusion everything would be fine. And it was Jackson, he wasn't dumb but he wasn't the brightest bulb in the lamp compared to others. Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter in her chair. "So, what'll it be? Carnations? Daisies? Roses?"

"Roses, duh," Jackson replied. "A dozen of them."

"What color?" she asked and then caught the look that she shot his way. "Red, okay, stupid question."

"The fact that you can recognize when you ask a stupid question should stop you from asking them," Jackson said with a roll of his eyes.

Melanie ignored his comment and pushed the form in front of him. "Okay, fill out your name, recipient, flower choice, and locker number of recipient. Leave a message if you want to."

"I can read," he snapped, pausing in his writing.

"What's gotten up your butt today?" she grumbled. "Your mattress not soft enough? Can you feel a pea through it, Princess?"

"That's so funny I forgot to laugh," he said, slapping his pen down and slid the paper back.

Melanie started to take it but something made her pause. Eyebrows crinkling, she turned it around so she could read it properly. "Uh…I think you spelled _Lydia_ wrong," she stated, pointing at where he wrote _Allison_ in the recipient blank.

"I think you need to mind your own business," Jackson shot back. "God, don't you ever stop talking?"

"No, can't say I do, I like the sound of my own voice a bit too much," she replied, taking the form and set it aside with the others. She made sure to put it in the stack in the right place, sorted by flower arrangement type. "That'll be $15."

Melanie accepted the money and counted it. Ignoring his jab that he was "good for the money" she made sure it was the right amount and set it away in the lockbox. As she glanced up at him it was then she noticed how pale he appeared. Gaunt, event. There appeared to be dark circles beneath his eyes. "Hey, are you…are you okay?" she asked, and then immediately regretted asking. It was Jackson Whittemore of all people, even if he wasn't she doubted he'd want to talk to her. "It's just…you look as if you haven't been sleeping," she continued hastily. "Not-not because of that pea thing. But…maybe…because of what happened?"

Jackson paused. His eyes narrowed and they shifted ever so slightly as he studied her. She twisted her fingers together and bit her lip as she waited, waited for him to turn away or laugh at her or something. But he just stared at her and her heart began to race. Did he know she was involved? Did he know what happened? Did he know what was going on? It was only a matter of time until he connected the scratch on the back of his neck to Derek Hale and everything that was happening. The dots weren't that hard to connect if she could do it. And Jackson could be surprising.

Like now.

"Okay," he said, resting his palms on the table top and shifted his weight on it. "The thing is…I saw something that…that just doesn't make sense."

"In an entire night that doesn't make sense, that's not that hard to believe," she said slowly, watching him.

"No, I know. It's just…I saw this…this _thing_. It…" he paused, as if checking to see if he was making a mistake by entrusting her with what he was about to say, but continued. "It was tall and…and had these eyes. They were…piercing. And…it was weird. At one point…I thought it was a man. It stood tall but… but then…"

Melanie gulped, hoping it was inaudible. "Then what?" she pressed, now fidgeting with her pen.

"Then…it got on all fours and hurried away." Jackson's eyebrows furrowed, a faraway look appearing in his eye as he thought of the events. "Like…like an animal. Like—"

"A mountain lion?" Melanie offered, somewhat dryly.

Jackson blinked and studied her. "Something like that," he replied. "It was just…weird. Too weird." He rubbed the back of his neck. Melanie's eyes flickered down to his hand. He blinked and his eyes narrowed as he caught the movement, dropping his arm. "Did you see anything?"

"I was a little bit too busy trying to run for my life than to pay attention to whatever that thing was," Melanie replied, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

He stared at her, scoffed, and then rolled his eyes. "Figures you wouldn't be of any help." He turned away, still muttering under his breath, "Don't know why I even bothered to try."

"Because you had someone to talk to who didn't brush you off," Melanie yelled at his back. His gait slowed for a brief moment but he continued his stride down the hall. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She watched him disappear around the corner and then pulled out her notebook. Flipping past a couple of pages she landed on one that she had written about the scratch on the back of Jackson's neck. She remembered that he had cried out in pain after hearing the Alpha howl and then he was fine afterwards. She clicked her tongue. She had only read of transformation through bites…but maybe they could be turned through other means as well. Maybe they would need t keep a closer eye on him than they thought.

_**# # #**_

Melanie had just changed into her practice clothes when Coach Finstock asked her to join the boys in the locker room, promising that they were decent and that he had an announcement to make. She gathered up her stuff and followed him into the locker room, squeezing past Jackson and Danny to take up an unoccupied space by the lockers. She leaned against it and crossed her arms, waiting to see what coach had to say that was so important.

It felt weird standing in the boy's locker room after what happened. It felt weird knowing what had gone on and that the janitor wasn't with them anymore because of a failed plan to draw him out. She sighed. It smelled the same, the boys were the same, the space was the same, but it all felt different. Kinda like the feeling when you borrow someone else's clothes, you know it's not the same. It's not the right fit.

She glanced over at Scott and Stiles and felt her eyebrows lowering. Scott seemed tense or apprehensive about something. Whatever it was, it bothered him all day; he even skipped out on a Chemistry test earlier that day. Not that she blamed him. It was tough, even if it was multiple choice. But she didn't think it had anything to do with Allison, he was a bit more tense and high strung. Heck, she caught the aftermath of him slamming his head against the wall in his frustration and had to drag him away before anyone got suspicious or told a teacher. For all they knew it was just more repairs they needed to get through.

"—The following people have made first line on a probationary basis, emphasis on the word probationary," Coach Finstock announced.

Melanie blinked and stood up straighter. _First line?_ But then she stopped herself from getting too excited over the news. She felt bad for those who got pink eye but even in that event she didn't expect Coach to move her up. Her suspicions were quickly confirmed when he put Rodriguez, Taylor, and Stiles on first line. As bummed out as she was she was still excited for Stiles—well, _Biles_—to get the chance to play in his first game. Her excitement then increased when Scott was named co=captain of the team, partially because he was brought up a level and partially because Jackson was visibly brought _down_ a level.

"Did you see Jackson's face?" Isaac asked as the two filed out of the locker room to follow Coach's orders to get their asses on the field. "I thought his brain was about to explode due to lack of comprehension."

"I'm just glad it's not me or else he'd find a way to make me incapacitated," Melanie replied, resting her stick on her shoulder. She scratched at her fringe. "I don't get what his problem is. He's still one of the best on the team. People still worship the ground he walks on. He has more money than he knows what to do with. What's so important about this?"

"Maybe…I dunno, he's just trying to prove himself," Isaac mused aloud. Melanie gave him a look. "I've lived across the street from him my whole life. He's always been a bit into wanting the best because that's how he's raised. But then he found out he was adopted and that kinda went to the extreme." He paused and then added, "With Scott around and now you on the team he probably feels as if the attention's being taken away from him, attention that he worked hard for."

"Oh, I get it, you're saying we're to blame for him being a maniac," Melanie said, lightly elbowing him in the side.

"Just a little bit," Isaac teased, chuckling at her cry of indignation, "the rest is his own fault."

"Maybe _he's_ the one on steroids," she muttered. Isaac shrugged his shoulders. "It's just…stupid. I _love_ lacrosse. I don't get why people are making such a big deal about it. What does it matter if I'm playing on a boy's team?" She huffed. "And all that's being discredited and shit upon with the stupid rumor and Jackson being a…_Jackson_ and Coach not taking me seriously and—"

"Hey." Isaac swung out his stick to stop her from walking. "Who cares? You're a good player. Your evasiveness and agility are leagues above some of the other guys. It helps that you're small. And, yeah, sometimes your aim is off and you can get knocked over like a leaf in the wind—"

Melanie stuck out her tongue. "I thought this was supposed to be a pep talk."

"It is. I'm just warming you up. Can't let you get a big head, it won't fit in your helmet." He chuckled at the look she threw his way. "Anyway, what I'm saying is don't let the opinions and sore egos of the others make you stop loving something."

The two smiled at each other and then split off to separate groups to begin their warmup drills which consisted of tossing the ball back and forth to one another as they shuffled down the field. After that the coach ordered the team to jog around the field which was then followed by sets of jumping jacks, leg, arm, and ankle stretches. After that they were spread out across the field to practice rushing on goal against two defenders. Rodriguez made it past with little trouble as did Taylor. It appeared that Jackson barely had to try to get past the defenders and score a goal on Danny. Isaac made it through easily and then it was Scott's turn.

Melanie stood two people behind Stiles and had to lean over to watch as Scott picked up the ball. She rested the end of her lacrosse stick on the ground and laid her arms atop of it as she watched. She winced with the rest of the group when Scott was bulldozed by the defenders and he lay flat on the ground. She frowned. That wasn't like him. Surely he could just bash his way through with his wolf powers and make the shot, couldn't he? Her frown deepened when Coach Finstock burst out laughing and started comparing him to his dead grandmother.

"Dude, that's harsh," she muttered.

"That's coach," one of her teammates muttered back, but he was shaking his head all the while.

Shaking her own head, she geared up for her own turn as Stiles started forward but Scott pushed him back and picked up the ball again. "Oh no," she muttered under her breath. His stance was a bit hunched and his shoulders heaved. His wolf powers were coming out. This was _not_ going to end well. She flinched and made faces as she watched Scott plow into the two defenders and then ram into Danny before scoring a shot on goal.

Danny lay on the field, in obvious pain. The rest of the group rushed over to check on him. Jackson got there first, turning his best friend over for them to assess the damage. He had a bloody nose and that was his only visible injury. They quickly deduced that it wasn't broken but it had to be a hard hit to give him a bloody nose. The paramedic rushed to the field to officially look him over and Melanie took the time to approach Stiles while everyone was occupied.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

"Apparently Scott's wolf senses were tingling," Stiles replied. A blank expression rested on her face. "Read a comic book, _please_. For the love of…" his words trailed off as he shook his head, his disgust and frustration cutting him off.

"But he has control over his anger now."

"He usually does," Stiles said. "Except for—"

Melanie cut him off as she snapped her fingers. "The full moon!" she hissed. "God, I completely forgot! That's why he's been so out of it today! Good thing he doesn't fully transform until the moon comes out, right?"

"Not unless he can fight his urges," Stiles replied. "Which was what Derek was trying to teach him to do before we turned him into a felon."

"So he's momentarily out of the picture then. What do you do to prepare?" Melanie asked.

"Uh…the last time was…let's say a learning experience. I was going to chain him up this time."

"Do you need me to come over and help out? I can bring my books."

Her question went unanswered. Stiles wasn't listening to her anymore. Lydia had rushed to the field and, as always, his attention jumped to her. But he wasn't smiling as he always did whenever he spotted the girl. No, he appeared shocked by something. Or suspicious.

"No," Stiles finally replied as he turned around, his words firm. He licked his lips and shook his head. "No, I don't need any help. I can handle it."

Melanie's shoulders shrunk. She wanted to see it for herself, see what the full moon did to him. But Stiles had dealt with the situation longer than she had and if he said he could handle it, maybe he could. "Alright," she replied. "But text me if anything comes up, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, walking past her. She huffed. Now _he_ was acting weird. If he suddenly came out and claimed he was a werewolf too it wouldn't surprise her. Shaking her head, she rejoined the other boys in line as Danny was taken off the field.

Coach ordered them to continue their practice for the day, but he put Scott in goal. That made a lot of the boys blanch. Melanie audibly gulped. It was one thing going against Jackson but going against Scott McCall? On a full moon of all days? They may as well sign their wills at that moment, he would kill them. Not that Coach cared; he seemed to love carnage as much as he loved winning.

Scott knocked aside anyone that tried to score on him. Melanie bet that Jackson was secretly glad he was acting as a defender now so he didn't have to face Scott. No one was able to score a goal on Scott by the time Melanie stepped up to the line. She stared at Scott through the gate on her helmet. In the goal his shoulders heaved with deep breaths. She could almost see his eyes glowing across the way.

Coach blew into his whistle. Melanie ran forward and scooped up the ball. She cradled the ball in the net as her feet worked to start and stop her momentum to dodge the defenders ahead of her. She managed to squeeze past them and rush the goal. Her excitement for making it through was short lived as Scott charged ahead like a bull. Melanie made a desperate shot at goal before she felt the blow of Scott's hit.

Her feet left the ground and she was sent flying until she landed hard on her back. She cried out at the pain that shot through her back. She dug her heels into the ground to try and lift herself off the ground, bring relief to her aching back, but it didn't work. Every slight movement caused more pain. She resorted to breathing sharply through her clenched teeth and squeezing her eyes shut to try and relieve the pain in any way she could think of.

"Crowe? Crowe, are you crying on my field?" Coach demanded as he hovered above her.

"I'm trying not to," Melanie replied her voice tight as she lay still on the ground.

"Suck it up and quit being such a girl," Jackson commented from above her.

"Dude! Scott just pummeled her! We're not all built like a brick wall of muscles," Stiles shot at him.

The medic ran back onto the field, this time to check Melanie over. After asking questions and putting pressure around her lower back and spine the medic deduced that the damage wasn't extensive, it was most likely coupled with the blow which had knocked the wind out of her previously. A few days with ice on her back and she would be fine. But she had to sit out the rest of the practice to ensure she didn't injure herself any further so she lay on one of the benches with a bag of ice on her back, watching the rest of the boys finish up.

It was infuriating, being so close and yet being so far away from the action. Every time she got the chance to play something got in her way, something messed up. And Scott never even apologized for hurting her! Stiles at least tried to cheer her up. It didn't work too well since he was clearly bothered by something himself but full moon or not, Scott had a lot of groveling to do if he wanted to get back into her good graces.

"This is starting to get ridiculous," Melanie mumbled under her breath as she walked slowly to her truck once practice ended. She looked up when Isaac rung the bell on his bike and waved as he took off. "At this rate, by next week, I won't be able to set foot on the field at all. Then Coach and Jackson and my mom will _all_ be happy."

She could already imagine how her mom was going to fuss once she got home. How she would use that as an excuse to try and get her off the team and make her injury sound worse than it really was. And then her dad would tell her that she was overreacting and then they would start fighting _again_. It was getting to the point that she didn't want to go home anymore. The only thing about today was that she had an excuse to take her time in getting home.

_**# # #**_

Melanie was thankful that the night brought on silence in the Crowe house, aside from Nova's snoring in the corner of her room. After she somehow managed to get in through the front door she had a few hours to herself to lie on the couch, watching mindless TV with a bag of ice on her back. Her mother was the first to come home and worried over her as she predicted. But then when her father came home no fight followed the announcement of her injury, which took her by complete surprise.

"We're working out our differences," Arabella said.

"We're learning to listen to each other," Laurence agreed.

And the two went around with tight smiles and light words for the rest of the night. They weren't real smiles but they were smiles nonetheless and at least they were trying. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if her parents had been replaced with pod people for how hard they were trying to get along with one another. She almost missed the fighting, it was much less creepy.

After a quiet dinner of polite conversation, Melanie managed to drag herself up the stairs and to her room. Lying down, she tried to concentrate on her homework but the dull ache in her back kept her focus at bay. She had taken painkillers but they didn't seem to be working. The pain had shrunk from her entire back to just around the top of her back. It made sudden movements that much more painful.

Abandoning her homework, she watched videos on YouTube and scrolled through blogs on her tumblr. She chatted with Erica for a while before she glanced at the clock and saw that it was getting late so she tried to crack open her homework again. She had her Econ textbook out and tried to focus on the chapters that they were assigned but her tired, burning eyes made the words jump along the page. Still she powered through and finished the reading, although she wasn't sure she had a grasp on what the topic was. Even so, her homework was done and she could get to bed.

Rolling over until she swung her feet over the edge of the bed, she stood and shuffled over to her window where shafts of moonlight filtered in. She gripped the edges of her blinds and was about to pull them shut but the bright light of the moon stopped her. She stood still, staring at the silvery sphere in the ink black sky. Her gaze didn't waver, she didn't blink; she just stood and stared.

Finally her eyes tore away and she turned to her bedroom door, walking steadily to it. She opened the door, crossed the threshold, and made her way to the stairs. She carefully took one at a time until she was at the bottom and made a beeline for the front door. She easily made it out the front door and down the porch steps. Once she got to the road she began running.

Her shoes slapped against the ground in a rhythmic beat and her breaths came out short bursts. The moonlight above lit her way. Her running pace stayed even the longer she ran, until she got closer to her destination. A line of trees. She picked up speed, her legs moving faster to carry her into the woods and then deeper inside. Shafts of moonlight poked through the thick canopy above. Dried leaves crunched beneath her shoes. Her breaths were now short gasps, forming small clouds as they hit the air as she ran. She jumped over a fallen log, jogged down a slope, and came to a stop near the lip of a small creek in the woods.

She fell to her knees, gasping for air as she looked into the creek. Water trickled down at the bottom. The moonlight wavered and shook in the reflective surface. Melanie stared down at it and then screamed at the pain shooting through her back, ripping her apart. Her fingers dug into the hard earth as she ducked her head, still screaming in pain.

Her anguished yells echoed in the dark woods. Tears rimmed her eyelids as she squeezed them shut and clenched her teeth. Her body seized with the force of the next scream that ripped through her throat as the pain on her back intensified. It was on fire. She felt her skin tear.

Blood soaked through her shirt; it felt heavy on her back. Something poked out of her skin and pushed against her shirt. Tears streamed down her face, freezing her skin. She clawed desperately at the ground, her throat burned from her continued screams.

Reaching behind her head, she grabbed a section of her shirt and started to tug it up. The cold air made goosebumps erupt over her skin. She tugged harder. Her shirt got stuck on something on her back. She tugged even harder. The shifting object in her pain caused more pain as she tried to dislodge her shirt. Finally it came free over her head. Her back arched and a loud _crack!_ pierced the air.

Everything stopped. The pain in her back went away, the tears running down her face slowed, the screams bursting out of her throat silenced. Everything in the woods stood still. Gasping, Melanie brushed her hands across her eyes to rid them of her tears. She froze when she heard it. A flapping sound. Surely there wouldn't be any birds around, not with her screaming. Yet there it was again.

Melanie twisted her body to the side to look over her shoulder but her sight was blocked by a very large, black wing. Her eyes widened so far she was surprised they didn't pop out of her head. Turning her head the other way granted her the sight of seeing another wing. They spread out behind her back, blotting out the moonlight. She reached behind herself to touch her back. Her fingers grazed the quickly cooling, sticky blood that dripped down. Then they brushed against the slits in her back, the ones that stung underneath the shower head days ago. Now they housed the thick ends of black wings.

_Her_ black wings.

Melanie dropped her hands – blood stained her fingers - and screamed a loud, long, anguished scream. But it wasn't human, not entirely. Laced within the scream was an animalistic scream. A piercing bird scream.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - And we're finally to the good part! Ever since I wrote this chapter I couldn't wait for you all to read the end of it. I'm bouncing on my toes in excitement to see what you all think so please leave a review! or PM me, that works too! Also, thanks to those new people who are faving and alerting! I'd like to know what you all think as well!


	15. Aberrations

**_Chapter 15: Aberrations_**

Searing sunlight roused Melanie from her deep sleep the next morning. She could feel the heat on her face and saw bright yellow on the other side of her eyelids. They fluttered open as the blanket of sleep upon her lifted. She took in a breath just to start coughing due to the dust that shot into her lungs. She pushed away from the couch arm that left an imprint on her cheek and squinted around the room. Dust motes floated around in the air of the house. The charred house. How it was still standing, she didn't know. Black, smoke damaged walls and floor surrounded her. The remains of what appeared to be a rocking chair sat in a corner of the room. Otherwise it was bare.

Melanie got off the couch, the cushions squeaked beneath her shifting weight. She brushed her unkempt hair out of her face and took tentative steps forward, looking around. Her steps halted altogether when another set of footsteps sounded on the floor boards. Quick footsteps. Melanie didn't have time to move when her visitor approached.

"What are you _doing_ here?" she addressed Derek. Her heart thudded against her chest. Derek Hale was standing in front of her. Derek Hale was alive. He was _alive!_ But how? She had seen him get poked through like a shish kabob. She saw him get thrown against the wall like a rag doll. And yet there he was, standing as if he hadn't a care in the world. She couldn't help it; she surged forward and flung her arms around his midsection. She had never been so happy to see someone in her life. She had never been so happy to see a _werewolf_ in her life. He was alive and he was safe.

Derek stiffened beneath her but she didn't let go of him. It only made her hold on tighter. Feeling his muscles beneath her arms was just a bonus. Not that she was focusing on that. Nope. Not one bit. She could hear a growl rumble deep within his chest. "Getting _you_ out," he answered, grabbing her upper arm."You shouldn't be here," he said firmly. "It's not safe."

"No kidding," Melanie replied, stepping away from him. As if standing next to a werewolf would be safe in any regard. She rubbed at her arm where he had grabbed her, noticing the red marks that marred her skin. Any harder and she'd probably have the police at her door to investigate an abuse claim. "Why am I here? Did you bring me here?"

"What are you talking about? You wandered out into the middle of the woods yourself. You came here yourself. You're lucky I was the one to find you and not those hunters," Derek said, his voice stern, his stare hard.

Melanie scratched her head. "I did what?" She asked, looking around. That wasn't possible. She had been in her room. She was doing her homework. Why would she leave just to wander around in the middle of the woods? And why wouldn't she remember it? Her eyes darted around the room, going back to the couch she had occupied. She rubbed her face, still feeling the pattern imprinted in her cheek. "Where am I?"

"My house," Derek replied.

She blinked. She certainly didn't expect that. But it all made sense now, the state it was in. She regarded him and he watched her. Did he live here still? Is this where he disappeared to? His burnt out shell of a home? Why would someone want to stay there? She couldn't even imagine her won house burning down, let alone going back to it to live there afterwards. "Why am I at your house?" she asked but then a moment later she forgot about her question as she gasped aloud. "_Shit!_ My mom and dad are going to freak out! Why did you bring me here, Derek?"

"Are you deaf?" he demanded, his nostrils flaring. "_You_ came here by yourself. _You_ were the one in the woods! _I_ didn't bring you here!" The emphasis he put on his words were heavy. He didn't mince his intent to point out his detachment in their current predicament.

"No I wasn't!" she denied. "I-I was at my house. I was doing my homework..." But her words weren't as strong as she wanted them to be. Frankly she couldn't remember anything after going up to her room to do homework and before waking up that morning. Maybe she _had_ wandered into the woods herself. Maybe she sleepwalked. But why now of all times would she start sleepwalking? She's never done it before. There was a first time for everything but…it felt weird. She wasn't in her pajamas; she was still in her clothes from yesterday. _Yesterday!_ She had gotten injured during lacrosse practice but now her back didn't hurt at all. It was as if she had completely healed overnight but she was hit hard by Scott's werewolf body check. No one could come back from a hit like that that soon. Let alone her. And yet there she was, standing around as if nothing had happened.

Derek turned on his heel and walked away. Melanie gulped and brushed her hair out of her face. _This is it. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, he's going to go all wolf on me and kill me. Man, I knew I should have sent those chain e-mails. This must have been what they were warning me about._ "Here, eat this," Derek said, shoving a plate into her hands. She stared at it, as if she hadn't seen a plate before in her life. She blinked rapidly for a few seconds before her brain finally connected the dots for her. The object on the plate came into view, like a sharpen tool had been used in photoshop. She made a face at the deep red colored meat that sat on the plate.

"What is this?" she asked. Her mind couldn't come up with anything that could describe it. It didn't look like anything she'd eaten before. She looked around again. How was he able to prepare t anyway? Surely nothing electric worked in the house anymore.

"Deer," he replied. Her face became more grotesque. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I don't have filet mignon on the menu," he grunted. "Eat it and go. You don't want to be found with me, thanks to Scott."

She drummed her fingers on the plate. "He was just trying to protect the others," she said quietly.

Derek scoffed. "Yeah, at my expense. I can't get the alpha with the cops around. He really fucked things up. All because he couldn't shake his friends loose. Now he sees how important it is to only deal with a pack."

"But…we're his pack," she said, her eyebrows furrowing at Derek's words. "Isn't that the point of one? To protect who's in it at all costs? Or else it wouldn't survive, right?" He glared at her and she briefly wondered how he was able to put so many words into one look. Turning her eyes away she picked up the piece of meat on the plate and took a bite. It was drier than she expected, a bit tough and chewy but wasn't too bad. It left a funny aftertaste on her tongue and in her mouth but she wasn't going to complain when he was being hospitable. Which reminded her… "Derek, why did you let me stay here?"

"Stop asking questions and eat," he ordered while crossing his arms. A muscle in his clenched jaw twitched. His eyes darted around, as if looking for something. Hunters, probably. She took another bite and chewed. If he was so worried about hunters wouldn't coming back to his own home be like wearing a target on his back? That couldn't be a smart idea. He paced around the windows, peering out here and there. Just as the last piece of meat passed Melanie's lips he wrenched the plate out of her hands and put it aside. "Good, you're done. Now go!"

"How do you expect me to get to school?" Melanie demanded, digging her heels into the floorboards. The rubber on the bottom of her shoes emitted squeaking sounds against the wood. She nearly bumped into Derek when he stopped walking.

"Use your legs, they got you this far," he replied. Well, more like growled. If she didn't already know he was a werewolf she would have thoughts so from the growling alone.

"I'm not going to get there in time. Don't you have a car?"

"And have every member of the police department after me? _Really?_" Derek shook his head. "You've been hanging around those two for too long, they're rubbing off on you."

"Well." Melanie crossed her arms. "If you can live with yourself with the idea of me walking around in the woods without a weapon and without cover with hunters roaming about that could strike me down at any minute—"

Her words collided against his hand when he pressed it against her mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer to her face. Her eyes roamed his face. She appreciated it from far away but up close was another thing all together. His eyes were a moss green, fading into a maple brown and hooded by a thick brow. There was an intensity nestled deep within his eye that she didn't think was a learned trait. It looked like a fire crackled in the darkness of his irises.

"Do you…_ever_ stop talking?" Derek finally asked. Her lips stretched into a smile despite his palm still pressing against her mouth.

"When I have nothing to say," she replied, her words and voice muffled by his hand. "Come on, I'm better to listen to than Stiles, right?"

"Not by much," he replied. The relaxing muscles in his face contradicted his clipped sentence. His sturdy jaw softened when he unclenched his teeth. He dropped his hand from her mouth and ran it through his hair. He gripped at the shafts of his hair for a moment. "Okay," he said, sighing and dropping his hand. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

He stopped by the door and stared at her. "You said you wanted to go to school."

Melanie tilted her head, much like a confused puppy. With her wide blue eyes she almost looked like one to him. "But _you_ said—"

"I know what I said, just come on! Before I change my mind!"

She scurried after him and out the front door, noting the red chipped paint on the front; some places looked as if the paint was about to droop right off. Derek stood still on the porch, his eyes darting around. Then he took in a long, audible breath through his nose and let it out slowly.

"What are you doing?" Melanie asked.

"Looking. Smelling. Listening," he replied.

"Listening for what?"

"Heartbeats," Derek replied. "I can hear someone's or something's heartbeat. Every dip, every spike I can pick up." Melanie's eyebrows jumped up. That was new. She figured that their hearing was on a different level than a human's but not by _that_ much. "There's nothing here," he reported after a few moments of silence. Then he knelt on one knee. Was he…? _What_ was he…?

"Whoa, dude! You're cool and all but I think I'm a little young for that," she commented, waving her hands. "Besides, I'd need my parents' permission and that's kinda not cool when it comes to signing papers, right?"

Derek threw her an exasperated look over her shoulder. She didn't miss it. In fact there was no way she _couldn't_ catch the look. Even if she was a butterfingers. "Get on!" He ordered.

"Yes sir," she squeaked, his bark making her jump. She shuffled forward, learned over his back, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her nose twitched at the spicy scent that clung to his neck – a cross between burning firewood, old leather, and something sweet she couldn't put her finger on. He stood at full height, easily lifting her off the ground. He looped his arms around her knees, took one step forward, and then they were off.

Wind tugged and pulled at their clothes to slow them down. It whistled in her ears and brushed its icy claws across her skin. Her eyes watered; the tears spilled over her bottom lids and ran down her cheeks, further distorting the green and brown blurs of the trees and leaves surrounding them. The brush of the cold air on the tear tracks on her face cut into her flushed skin.

She directed him which way to go to get back to school, directing him this way and that. She had managed to walk in much further than she expected but she knew her way out. As if she had been there before. As if the woods felt _familiar_ somehow. Or perhaps it was just her good sense of direction. She had never been lost in her life, no matter how many times she wandered off. And in this case she wandered _far._

"This is as far as I go," Derek commented once he stopped running. He bent his knees and waited for Melanie to slip off his back. "I shouldn't have to tell you to keep your mouth shut but because it's _you_—"

"You can trust me," Melanie told him. And it wasn't until the words came out of her mouth that the realization hit her that she _needed_ him to trust her. She was involved now. She was an ally. She had their back. But even then he didn't trust her. Not just him, Scott and Stiles didn't either. Why else wouldn't Stiles let her help out during the full moon? Would they include her in anything else or was that the end of their partnership?

Her blue eyes lifted only to lock with Derek's hard stare. His eyes shifted ever so slightly, as if he was trying to figure her out. Her eyebrows furrowed and then a light turned on in her head. He was listening to her heartbeat. "Sorry," she muttered, pressing her hands to her chest as if that would muffle the sound. "I'll just go." She turned away, shifting from front facing to profile, only to stop and turn back. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, exhaled, and murmured, "Be careful, okay?"

Melanie turned away before he could say anything or glare at her some more. Honestly, she didn't know how his eyes weren't starting to hurt from how much he glared. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if his eyebrows froze the way they were held.

She jogged up the slope and broke through the line of trees that slowly evolved to the asphalt of the school's parking lot. It was full of cars and the smell of exhaust fumes from the bus had long gone stale. She was late.

Moving across the parking lot and slipping between cars, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She cringed at the double digit numbers that indicated the texts and voice messages left on her phone. The flashing battery sign drew her eyes over to that number and then to the time. She was _really_ late.

She charged into the school, the front door banging shut behind her. The metal clang bounced off the lockers and filled the space of the empty hallway. She cringed at the sound. Her skills at sneaking in were still subpar. Grumbling under her breath, she slipped into the front office and pulled an apologetic face when the secretary shot her a disapproving look. It was better than anything she could have said aloud. Thankfully she was occupied by the secretary being on the phone.

"I know, I know," Melanie whispered. "Detention. I have to stay after school anyway to ensure the flower delivery for tomorrow. I need to learn responsibility, yadda, yadda. Can I just have a late slip?" She extended her hand and waited for the woman to put it in her palm. Once she got it she raced to her locker to see…that it was nearly empty.

_What?_ Standing on her tiptoes, Melanie peered up at the top shelf, blinking to be sure what she saw was actually looking back at her. And it was. Emptiness stared her in the eye. She dropped back to her feet and looked down at the bottom. That was empty too. Her backpack was gone as was her lacrosse stick. Her heart thudded in her chest. She had been robbed!

Her body shook with the jolt of realization. She hadn't been robbed. Her books and her backpack and her lacrosse stick were at home. She hadn't been home since she supposedly wandered away. She left everything there. She was still in clothes from the day before. She groaned and dragged her hands down her face, pulling at her features.

This was going to be a long day.

Melanie closed her locker door and put her lock through the hoop. She spun the dial, shoved the late note into her pocket, and rushed for her first class of the day. As she expected, she gathered attention as soon as the door swung open. After passing the late slip over to the teacher, she tried to appear as small as possible – which wasn't that hard due to her naturally small stature – and slunk between the rows of seats and sat down behind Erica. The short pause due to the teacher reading her slip ended as he continued teaching.

Hiding behind Erica's dry hair, Melanie leaned forward. "Did my mom call?" she asked.

"About eleven," Erica replied, keeping her head forward.

Melanie sighed in relief. She could always count on Erica to have her back. "Did you cover?"

"Of course. Said you came over because I needed you."

"I owe you."

"Yeah, you do." Erica paused and ducked her head as if she was taking down notes about what the teacher was saying. Melanie slumped in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. She forgot how boring History could be. All the people they talked about were dead, who cared? Her disdain for the subject was short lived when Erica sat up straight again. She turned her head slightly to whisper, "What happened? I had to stop my mom from calling yours. Where were you?"

"It was so weird. One minute I'm in my room and the next I'm waking up in the woods," Melanie whispered back, making sure to keep her voice low.

"So, what, you sleepwalked?"

"I guess? It was…so weird. It's almost like my brain checked out or something. Like…that one space in my mind is gone. Like it's blocked out or erased or something."

"Repressed memory?"

"I dunno." She frowned. It hadn't bothered her that much until she talked about it. That one part of her day was gone. Wiped. She didn't remember what she did or if she did anything or if someone did something to her. All she could do was trust what Derek told her but even then that felt funny. It rubbed her the wrong way. It poked and prodded at her, like having a rock in her shoe. She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, resting her arms on the tabletop and leaned forward. "Anyway, I don't have any of my stuff so can I borrow some of your books?"

"Of course. But…are you sure you're okay?"

_No._ Melanie's skin crawled as her mind soared with the possibilities of her lost chunk of time and what could have happened around her and _to_ her. She ran her hands through her hair and flinched at every itching sensation on her body. But still she put on her best smile and replied, "Yeah, I'm good. No big."

Class finally ended and the two girls walked to their lockers, joining the crowd of students that spilled into the hallway. Melanie did her best to ignore the pointing and the whispers directed at her and her day-old wrinkled clothes. Throw in her unkempt hair and she bet the stupid rumors would come back around at full force. Like she needed to deal with that on top of everything.

"So did you and the rest of the SLC decide what to do with your flower money?" Erica asked as she popped open her locker door.

Melanie nodded, resting her shoulder against the locker next to Erica's. "Yeah, we're going to put it towards formal at the end of the month. Figured we may as well try to get a live band. We made a decent amount. So, after detention, I have to stay and make sure everything has been delivered and then tomorrow will be good to go."

"What are your parents' plans this year?" Erica continued. "They always do something super romantic."

"Well, it's date night again and I suggested they go to that new fancy place in town," Melanie replied. "Maybe getting out by themselves and dressing up and having all the expectations will make things better. You can't be mad at each other when you can be mad at overpriced desserts, right?"

Erica giggled. "That's true. Meanwhile my mom and dad will be taking me to the spa and out to dinner again." The smile that was on her face faded a second later. "Another year of a pity date for me."

Melanie twisted her mouth to the side. "Eri, c'mon, it's not a pity date. Your parents love you and just want you to see how special you are."

"I know but…just once I want to have a proper Valentine's Day."

"S'cuse me. _Who_ has sent you a bouquet of the reddest roses every year?" Melanie demanded. Her arms crossed tight over her chest. The roses weren't cheap, either. But Erica was worth it. She always would be worth it. Erica didn't answer so Melanie held her hand up by her ear and leaned forward.

"_You_ do," Erica replied.

Melanie smiled in a smug manner and nodded. "That's right. Me. And if you ask me, Valentine's Day is about showing those that are important to you that you love them. And no one loves you more than I do."

"What about my mom and dad?" Erica asked.

Melanie looked her in the eye and repeated, her words firm, "No one loves you more than I do." The bell sounded in the hallway. Melanie's eyes jumped up to the one down the hall and she looked over at Erica. "Meet at lunch? I have music and then a free period where I need to sell last minute flowers."

"Yeah." Erica grabbed Melanie's arm and gave it a squeeze. "I'll see you later. Try not to beat anyone up."

"I can't make any promises," Melanie replied. She exhaled a breath-like laugh through her nose when Erica bent over and kissed her cheek before hurrying away. Briefly pressing her weight against the locker, Melanie pushed away from it and regained her balance only to stop when she spotted the snake-like smug grin on Jackson's face. "Yes?" she asked.

"Nothing," Jackson replied. But she didn't buy it. Jackson had to get his biting comments out, one way or the other. So she waited. It came right on time. "Just wondering, with Valentine's Day tomorrow, how much we should expect you and your lesbian lover to parade up and down the halls." He paused and then added, "Does she know about your extracurricular activities?"

Melanie's eyelids fluttered as she rolled her eyes. Jackson was going to give them a workout, that's for sure. Mainly in her ability in restraint. Her fingers were itching to wrap around his neck. "Jackson, we're teammates. Can't you cut a girl a break?"

He held up his hands. "Hey, I'm all for girls loving on each other." She raised an eyebrow, sensing a 'but' coming. "But I just thought they would be attractive. Ruins it when they're not." Aaaand there it was.

She couldn't help it. She laughed. Jackson was just so…_Jackson_. Did he ever listen to himself before he talked? Or was that the problem, that he liked the sound of his own voice _that_ much? She shook her head. He was just so…so Jackson.

"I'm going to be late for class," she announced, walking away.

He scoffed. "Tell someone who cares," he muttered.

She stopped at the end of the hall. She whirled around, seeing him reach the other end of the hall. "Last I checked," she said aloud, causing him to stop at his end of the hallway, "you did that. Told someone who cared." He shifted his weight and lifted his bag higher on his shoulder. "About what you saw." His sturdy jawline sharpened when he clenched his teeth. "What you thought about that night of the attack. How you felt." She sighed, exasperated. "I'm trying here, Jackson. I don't see Scott or Stiles or Allison or Lydia doing anything. Believe it or not – and for reasons I don't totally get – I care. You can be an ass and shut me out and make fun of me all you want, but at least I'm trying."

She waved her hand, as if pushing him away, and hurried off to music class before the late bell sounded. She was thankful that she had most of the music for class memorized. Not having her books wouldn't be a problem. She slipped into the room right before the teacher could close the door. Much like that morning, she waved her way through the rows of chairs but instead of sitting in her usual seat she dropped down in the empty chair next to Danny.

He looked up as he placed the mouth piece on his trumpet. "Hi?" he muttered.

"Hey," Melanie replied, pushing a hand through her hair to keep it out of her face. "I have a question to ask. About Jackson."

"No, we've never hooked up," Danny said with a sigh.

"I wasn't going to ask you that," Melanie protested. He lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, so maybe I was curious about it," she conceded to his smug smirk, "but that wasn't what I was going to ask you. I was going to ask something else."

"No, he hasn't had plastic surgery."

"_Seriously_? Those cheekbones are _real_?" She gasped. She shook her head. _Focus, Mel, focus!_ Clearing her throat she said, "No, that's not it. I was going to ask…how are you friends with him?" Danny stared at her. "I mean…you're so different. Everyone likes you and…Jackson's…special."

He shrugged his shoulders. "How are you friends with who you're friends with?"

Melanie mimicked his shrug. "Because I like them?"

"No, really," Danny stated, deadpan. "How are you friends with Stiles. He's—"

"Twitchy?" Melanie filled in for him. Danny nodded. "Yeah, I say he's like a chipmunk on speed. But that's what I like about him. He's not boring, that's for sure."

"Well, that's the same for me and Jackson," Danny replied. "Only he's not hyperactive. More so that the things that people don't like about him I do. You can't claim that he's afraid to say what he thinks. Or that he's not creative. Some may say he's intense, I'd go with passionate. That's the whole point. You can't say you know him, can you?"

Melanie pursed her lips. "I kinda do," she grumbled. "During swim season he's decent enough."

"Yeah, that's because you were helping the team go on to States, he trusted your abilities in the pool after seeing it firsthand," Danny said.

Melanie huffed. "So why's lacrosse any different? Why do I have to try harder to get him to take me seriously?" Danny sighed. He didn't reply right away. He brought the mouthpiece to his lips and blared a note so loud that it made Melanie press her palms against her ears. The teacher at the front of the room nodded his head and then moved onto the next person to hear if the instrument was in tune. Melanie stuck her tongue out at him as he put his trumpet down, dimples carving their way into his cheeks as he smiled. She could tell he wasn't sorry for that so she nudged him. "Answer my question!" she urged.

"You're making Jackson into this complex person when, really, he's the most straightforward person in the world," Danny said as he clipped his music to the stand. "Look, being on the swim team is as much an individual sport as a team sport. During swim season he only had to rely on himself. And now…"

"He has to rely on the rest of us," Melanie filled in for him. Danny didn't reply but pressed his lips into a line. "Okay, let me ask one more thing."

"You really love to talk don't you?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well, if no one wants to fill the silence I may as well," Melanie replied, keeping an eye on the teacher as he continued down the line to tune instruments. The last few people had yet to be tested. "But, I just wanted to know…are you two best friends because you came out to Jackson first?"

Danny blinked rapidly and then a peaceful smile appeared on his face, it made the dimples reappear and a softness settle into his eyes. "No, that's the thing. I never had to come out to Jackson. He always knew. _T__hat's_ why we're best friends."

_**# # #**_

"Well _finally_! Geeze, it's like you two disappeared on me," Melanie cried out as she dropped down in an empty chair next to Scott at lunch. Once settled in the chair, she reached across for one of Stiles's tater tots. "Yoink!" she said and popped into her mouth, ignoring the disgruntled expression on his face. "Come on, spill the deets!" she said while backslapping Scott's arm. "What happened during the full moon? I _gotta_ know. Did Scott go Hulk on you?"

Stiles and Scott locked eyes across the table. Melanie lifted her eyebrows while waiting for an answer and chewed the potato in her mouth. More silence stretched on and her eyebrows dropped, furrowing together as worry began to gnaw at her. "Well!? I'm going to absolutely _die_ of anticipation!"

"Well, long story short, Scott's not immune to the full moon. He escaped, went all werewolf, and found that there's a chance that he could get rid of his powers," Stiles finally replied. He unscrewed the lid to his bottle of water and took a swig as he waited for the news to sink in.

"Wait. You can get cured?" Melanie asked, turning sideways in her chair to address Scott. She exhaled. This was…well, she didn't expect it. Didn't expect that there was a way he could be turned. In everything she's read the curse was just that. A curse. It was permanent. The only way it could be broken was by death. And, well, they seemed a bit calm about that idea.

"Yeah," Scott replied. "Supposedly…the only way I can get this…_condition_ cured is if I kill the one that bit me."

Melanie swung her eyes over to Stiles. "The Alpha?" she asked.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. That's one big turn of events, isn't it? Wants Scott to kill his pack but now Scott has to kill him. It's like a werewolf Hunger Games."

Melanie snorted. "Good one," she said, holding out her fist. Stiles tapped his against hers. Her smile faded the instant she saw the reproachful expression on Scott's face. "Sorry," she muttered. "Hhow'd you find out about this? I mean, this isn't in any sort of werewolf book I've read, nor any sort of mythology."

"Derek told me," Scott replied.

"Oh yeah! Surprise! He's still alive," Stiles said.

"Yeah, I know," Melanie sighed. Stiles and Scott stared at her, looked at each other, and then looked at her again. "What?" she asked, shifting beneath their gaze. She stole another tater tot off of Stiles's plate, managing to avoid him trying to slap her hand away, and ate it.

"How do _you_ know he's alive?" Scott asked. "I just found out last night."

"Oh. Well, _apparently_ I ended up sleep walking last night. He said he found me wandering around in the woods and then into his house. Brought me here this morning. I don't remember any of it, though," Melanie replied. Even as she relayed the story she was told it still didn't sit right with her and judging by the expressions on Stiles's and Scott's faces they felt the same way.

"Wait. He found you in the woods and that was that?" Stiles asked. "He didn't try to bite you or anything?"

"No," she replied. "Though, let's be real, being nibbled on the neck by someone that looks like him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." She did her best to restrain the smile that pushed its way to her lips but it won out in the end. Even the admonishing look Stiles shot her way didn't make it leave.

"You wandered into the woods? That's weird," Scott muttered.

"I know! Of all the places to go I go to the woods. Why couldn't it be, like, the Chocolate Factory or something else fun?" Melanie said, making a face at the facts.

"Not that," he said, waving his hand. "That you wandered into the woods. On the night of the full moon. And you don't remember any of it." He scratched the side of his head. "Are you _sure_ he didn't bite you?"

"Trust me, I'd be walking around and flaunting a hickey if I had one," Melanie said. "I checked. Nothing weird on my body. Besides my bellybutton. Kinda looks like a grandpa's wrinkled face."

"As interesting as that sounds," Stiles said, cutting into the conversation, "fact of the matter is he was wandering around after you while he knows that there are hunters out there. It doesn't make sense, putting himself in danger like that. He knows what would happen if he got caught. Methinks he's not telling the whole truth."

"What would he gain from it though?" Melanie asked.

"Who knows? It's _Derek_," Stiles replied, as if that explained everything.

"Look, maybe you should stay away from him," Scott spoke up. "For now," he added at the shocked expression on Melanie's face. "Just until we know what's up for him. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Scott, come _on_. I can help you out. Really!" Melanie protested. "I-I know I haven't done much yet but you haven't given me a chance. I knew about the wolfsbane bullet. And...and I can cover for you guys if you ever need. I can find out more about the hunters too. And the Alpha! I know I don't know a lot but him—yet! But I will! I'll dedicate my time to figuring out who it is and helping turn you back!" She was grasping at straws trying to get him to change his mind. He was taking away something she needed! Something she needed to distract herself from everything else. Something that was fun despite the danger involved but it was right up her alley! It was almost like he was dangling a piece of cake in front of her face and yanking it away when she tried to grab for it.

"And what if the Alpha comes after you next?" Scott demanded, his dark eyes boring into her. "Huh? What if the Alpha tries to attack you, or worse, _kill_ you? It'd be my fault. You can't defend yourself. And what if he bites you? Do you really want to live this life?" He gripped his hair and then sighed, looking forlornly at Stiles and Melanie. "I just want to be like you guys. I want to be _normal_ again...b ut I can't. The only thing I can do is stop it from getting worse, for either of you." He licked his lips. "So please, Mel, I'm _begging_ you. Stay out of it. We…we can call you and text you with information but _please_ don't put yourself in harm's way. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt."

The concerned laced around his words hit Melanie straight in the heart. Her shoulders sagged and she bit her lip while sitting beneath his soft gaze. "I didn't go _looking_ for Derek," Melanie pointed out, her voice quieter than before, "It just happened."

"And what if it happens again and a hunter gets you?" Scott pressed. Melanie sat back in her chair. Truthfully, she hadn't thought that far ahead. She wouldn't stand a chance against a hunter but still! She didn't want to sit by and constantly worry about whether or not Scott and Stiles and Derek were okay. She had to do something.

"So, what, I'm just a home base?" she asked. The bitterness in her voice couldn't be missed despite her attempts to hide it. "Keep me far enough in the loop that I'm caught up but far enough removed that I don't get to see any action?"

"You want werewolves breathing down your neck?" Stiles asked incredulously. "That's a weird kink if I've ever heard one."

Melanie ignored him. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned her eyes to Scott. "Scott, please. I need this. I need to help. I need to do _something_. _Please_." The desperation in her voice sounded foreign. For a moment she didn't know it belonged to her; didn't know that such raw emotion could be housed within her.

"I'm sorry," Scott replied. "It'd be best if you just stayed back. Okay?" He reached out and grabbed her hand, an action that would have short circuited her brain once before but not now. It only made the stabbing hurt in her chest that much more intense. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled her hand away, sighing inaudibly at the lack of heat around her hand.

"Fine," she conceded. "I'll stay out of the way." And while the odd sense of loss rushing around inside of her was strong it didn't take over the little bit of confusion that niggled in the back of her mind about waking up in the woods that morning. Good thing she had detention after school, it would give her enough time to pour over every moment to try and figure everything out. As if a clear answer was possible when it came to the supernatural.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter! Thanks to all those new reviews, guys! I loved reading them and seeing your reactions and guesses to what's going to happen next. I'm glad to see new people enjoying the story as time goes on. What do you think of Scott asking Melanie to stay out of the supernatural business? Is he just trying to protect her or do you think he made a mistake. And what do you think of Derek finding Melanie? Seems like he's hiding something...

Thanks to all those who recently fav'd and alerted this story and thanks to all you reviewers! I love hearing what you think and seeing what you have to say! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please read and review!

~C.M.


	16. The Man with the Scarred Face

_**Chapter 16: The Man with the Scarred Face**_

"This is detention, Ms. Crowe, not_ American Idol_," Mr. Harris drawled in Melanie's ear. He pulled one side of her headphones away from her ear to relay the message to her. She ducked her head and flinched away from his hot breath on her ear – which lacked garlic, she couldn't help but notice. "Less singing, more cleaning."

"Sorry Mr. Harris," Melanie muttered, shifting her headphones so they hung around her neck. She reached into her pocket to turn off her mp3 player, cutting Owl City off in the middle of a lyric. The catchy pop tune screeched to a halt and the contrasting silence of the chemistry room.

The repairs to the room had finished and now she was stuck cleaning off the tables and the blackboard of that room and a few others for detention. She didn't mind it too much, spraying down tables with disinfectant and wiping them down wasn't that bad of a gig. It was the fact that Mr. Harris was the one how had to make sure she got it all done. If people thought he wasn't pleasant during school hours they hadn't dealt with him afterwards.

Every scrub of her cloth atop of the black tables, Melanie imagined she was scrubbing off Scott's face. It just didn't make sense! Stiles was allowed to run around with Scott as they continued on their werewolf endeavors but she was benched to the sidelines! Just like in lacrosse. Did they not trust her? Was it because she was a girl in the boyish world they were now immersed in? It just didn't make sense that he suddenly did a total one-eighty about it. Was it bad that she was concerned about them?

"I think that one spot is clean, Ms. Crowe," Mr. Harris commented dryly. Melanie jerked her head up to look at him and then down at the table. One spot had a large, wet circle on it while the rest of the table remained untouched. "It's good to see that you're thorough but there are other tables to tend to."

Sighing, Melanie moved across the aisle to the other table. She only had a few scrubs on the table before she looked up. Her reflection stared back at her through a fixed window rather than the broken one from where the Alpha threw Stiles's car battery into the classroom. Standing in the room that kicked off the horror of that night made Melanie's throat tighten and her chest heave as she tried to get her breathing back.

She still had nightmares from that night, when she could sleep that is. It was a wonder how none of them ended up in therapy from it. Hell, she was surprised it wasn't suggested or forced upon them. Lydia had to be put on anxiety medication and kept at home for days after the Alpha attack at the video store. And yet with the idea of a _murderer_ chasing them down they were interviewed by the police and that was that. Beacon Hills had a funny way of operating sometimes.

She moved onto the next table, turning her thoughts to the lacrosse quarter-finals coming up at the end of the week. She had to play in that game. Just had to. Maybe then her mother would see how important it was to her. Maybe then Coach and Jackson would take her seriously. Maybe then the rumors would finally be put to rest. Maybe then something in her life would finally go right.

_Clang, clang, clang!_ Both Melanie and Mr. Harris looked up when the sound of slamming locker doors echoed in the hallway. Mr. Harris's eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses. Her scrubbing slowed as her eyes drifted over to the front door. The legs of Mr. Harris's chair scraped against the floor as he pushed away from his desk.

"You stay here," he ordered, smoothing down his tie as he approached the door. As if she really ha that far to run. He would only catch her when she came in to school the next day. Besides, she'd just run straight for the showers. After sleeping on the couch in a musty, dusty, burnt-out house she just wanted to get clean.

The door closed behind Mr. Harris with a soft click. Sighing, Melanie turned her attention back to her work. She quickly fell into a rhythm of spraying the table and then wiping it down. She was on her second to last table when a knock sounding at the door made her look up. She paused as an older man in a leather jacket strolled in. Half his face was marred with scars, making half his face appear frozen. She pulled a face.

"Oh, god! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have – that wasn't nice of me, sorry," she stammered, covering her face with her hands.

"That's okay," the man laughed. "When you look like this you get used to every reaction thrown at you. Believe it or not, that was one of the tame ones."

"Well, it was better than what I was thinking," Melanie admitted.

"Which was?" the man prompted, stepping further into the room.

"If someone ran a lawn mower over your face," she replied. The man laughed. Melanie allowed a small smile through. Someone who could laugh at a joke like that couldn't be that bad. The hair on the back of her neck that had sprung up at the sight of him laid back down. "Can I…help you with anything?" she asked.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering if you had maybe seen my nephew around," the man replied.

"Considering school's over for the day, probably not," she said. "Who's your nephew? Maybe I know him."

"That's doubtful," the man replied. Melanie blinked and peered at him. "He's a bit of a loner. Doesn't have friends. Tends to go his own way and do his own thing. I'm, uh, just here to pick up a book for him."

"Well, freshman lockers are by the cafeteria, sophomores in the main hall, Juniors up stairs and Seniors by the art room," Melanie explained, pointing in random directions to gesture the general area of where the certain lockers were located. "If he's like any of the other boys around here the combination is already set for tomorrow so all you have to do is tug on it and it'll pop open."

"Thanks for the advice." The man's eyes flickered around the room before landing on the headphones around her neck. "Into music, I take it?"

She looked down. She completely forgot the headphones were resting around her neck. "Yeah, I love it. Singing, playing, listening. It's all so much fun."

"Is that why you're here after school?"

"No, I got detention." Melanie sprayed another table and began wiping it down. "I got to school late due to sleepwalking."

"Oh?" the man's eyebrows lifted. "Wind up anywhere interesting?"

Melanie snorted. "If you call the woods and the Hale House interesting," she replied.

"The Hale House?" the man repeated. His eyebrows jumped up and curiosity latched onto his words. She nodded her head. "What brought you out there?"

"Who knows? Sleepwalkers don't really have a destination in mind. They just go where their feet take them. Mine decided to take me to some creepy house." Melanie laughed a little and shook her head.

"Was anyone lurking around?" the man pressed. Melanie's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him. "A young girl alone in the woods? Gotta be careful about those things," he said.

"True, but I can handle it," Melanie said. "I'm a tough girl."

"With a very, dare I say, _enchanting _personality," the man said, a smile stretching on the good half of her face. Melanie smiled in return.

The classroom door creaked open. Mr. Harris strode back in, his face much more pinched than usual. He mumbled something about a prank and sighed heavily. He dropped back down into his chair, pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger, and grabbed his discarded pen off his desk.

"These tables are clean enough. Move onto the next room. I'm sure I don't need to watch over you like a young child. Try and hurry up if you can. I don't want to be here all night," he said without looking up. He waved his hand to motion her out of the room.

Melanie turned back around and blinked in surprise when she noticed that the man with the scarred face was gone. Almost as if he had vanished into thin air. Shrugging, she grabbed the cloth and spray bottle and walked out of the room with a new pep in her step. He didn't say she couldn't listen to music, after all.

_**# # #**_

"No, it wasn't too bad as far as detentions go," Melanie said into her phone. Her head was tilted to hold it up against her ear as she used her hands to continue to put polish on her toenails. "It was actually kind of fun."

"Only _you_ can find a way to make cleaning fun," Erica commented. Melanie didn't miss her laugh which was crackly due to slight static on the line.

"Hey, as long as you get some music going cleaning can be a party," Melanie replied, finishing up her pinky toe on her right foot. Setting aside the blue-green metallic polish bottle, she grabbed the polish varnish can off the bedside table and sprayed it on her toes, flinching at the cold temperature.

"Nope. No matter what you say cleaning sucks. You must have some sort of super power."

"Some people get spider powers. Some people get bat powers. I get party powers."

"Batman didn't have powers. He bought all of his stuff. He's only called Batman because he dresses like a bat under the guise of night."

"So why don't they call him Nightman?"

"It doesn't work like that, Mels."

"Hey, I'm not the one who spent most of study hall pouring over comic books in junior high. You can't blame me for not catching onto the lingo."

Erica sighed. Melanie could almost see her rolling her eyes. "So are the Valentine's plans for your parents set?"

"Yep. I made them reservations for tomorrow at seven at that Italian place. The one with the good wine. That should get them in the right state of mind, right?"

"Wine, cheese, candlelight, Italian food. Sounds like a perfect night of romance to me. I'd love it if someone did that for me."

"Please, Eri, no boy in our grade is that thoughtful or that rich. Besides Jackson. And even then I don't think he'd go that far with it. I mean he's bought Lydia jewelry as far as I know and that's it. Maybe some lingerie. But that's more for him than her." Melanie picked up the bottle of nail polish, shook it, and then began polishing the nails on her left foot. "Did you know he got Allison roses?"

"Isn't there supposed to be buyer-seller confidentiality with this whole thing?" Erica asked.

"In this case the topic is allowed to be discussed," Melanie replied. "I mean, he's basically cheating on Lydia isn't he? With how much he's hanging all over Allison. And she's not even saying a word!"

"If this is bothering Lydia she wouldn't say anything about it. That would be like putting a sign on her forehead saying she can't control him."

"I just think it's ridiculous she's giving him so much leeway. She's practically telling him to cheat. It's lame. Even for her."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. Love is blind."

"Or selective."

A quick succession of knocks on her bedroom door was followed by Laurence sticking his head in between the gap of the door and the door frame. Nova's head perked up at the noise but he settled back down on his pillow when he saw who it was. Melanie lifted her eyebrows, signaling that she was waiting for him to say whatever it was that he knocked for.

"Dinner's ready. Spaghetti. Set the table please. I'm going to get your mother," he said.

"Okay Dad, I'll be right there." She waited for the door to close before continuing her conversation with Erica. "_Anyway_. After detention I stocked up all the flowers so they're ready to go tomorrow. The labels are all sorted and everything so all that needs to be done is the delivery. Isn't it great? I'm like a real life Cupid!"

"Don't tell me you're going to be wearing wings tomorrow."

Melanie swung her legs over the side of her bed and walked on the heels of her feet out the door and shuffled to the stairs. "I hadn't planned on it but now that you gave me the idea I might. But don't worry about that. Worry about being extra excited for your gift in the morning. I've totally topped myself from last year."

"Ugh, you're spoiling me."

"Yep, because God knows you won't do it for yourself," Melanie pointed out. "Anyway, I gotta go. I'll call you after so we can catch up on ANTM. Otherwise see you bright and early in the AM."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

Melanie jabbed the end call button with her thumb and rolled off her bed. Snapping her fingers, she signaled for Nova to follow her. Once outside her room she picked up the puppy and cradled him in her arms due to him still being afraid to climb and descend the stairs. She kissed the puppy between the ears and then scratched the top of his head. "Let's get you some food. We want you to grow big and strong. Yes we do," she cooed.

The stairs creaked as she put her weight on it to descend but the largest creak sounded when she stopped altogether to listen. Her parents' muffled arguing voices weren't new. She managed to block out if not outright ignore it most of the time but there were a few phrases that she picked out that made her take pause. "Don't have time for this", "You just don't understand", "It's not that easy", "You're being selfish" came out. But even then it wasn't what was said but rather the conviction that they used. It sounded almost hateful. A tone that she had never heard used no matter how frustrated her parents had gotten with each other.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as more barbed words were thrown back and forth behind the closed doors. Pinpricks covered the surface of her eyes until tears rolled across the bottom lids. Her lower lip trembled despite her best efforts to keep it stiff.

She blinked and looked down at Nova who had started to lick her on her chin. She forced a smile and wiped the dog drool off her chin. "I'm fine," she told him. "Nothing…nothing to worry about. Mom and Dad are just a bit tense. That's all." She kissed between Nova's ears again and moved away from her parent's door. She had descended the last few stairs when her phone rang. Cradling Nova in one arm, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, briefly noting that the name STILES flashed on the screen.

"What's up?" she asked as soon as she answered, her heart now racing for a different reason.

"The Alpha attacked Harris!" Stiles yelled.

"What!?" Melanie cried out. Her phone almost slipped out of her hand in shock but she held onto it although she set Nova down so as not to risk dropping him. Once on the ground Nova trotted away. "The Alpha was at school _again!?_"

"Derek tracked him down. Hunters showed up. We're outrunning them now and—_whoa!_ Geeze, Scott, learn to drive!"

"Stiles!" Melanie barked into the phone. "_What_ is going on? Why would the Alpha attack Harris?"

"Do I look like someone who would understand the mind of a psychotic killer? _Search me_, Mels!"

"But it doesn't make sense."

"_None_ of this makes sense! We're dealing with werewolves here; any version of sense has gone completely out the window."

Melanie shoved her fingers through her hair and began to pace. She chewed on her bottom lip. The Alpha was getting brave, far too brave. This only meant it didn't have much else to lose as it went on its killing spree. But why? Why those targets? Why was Mr. Harris involved? The questions flew through Melanie's mind in such rapid succession that it made her head hurt and no question stuck around long enough for her to come up with any semblance of an answer.

"Why are you telling me this? I thought you didn't want me involved," Melanie asked, traces of bitterness attached to her words.

"That doesn't mean I want you to get fucking killed either! You said the Alpha was outside your house once. I'm not just going to cover you in meat and throw you to the dogs. If the Alpha is going after our teachers there must be a good reason. And if he's getting bold enough to do it with hunters around then he must be close to completing his goal, whatever it is. And I'm sure terrorizing the community isn't at the top of his Werewolf List so we don't have much time left. If we're going to stop him and get Scott back to normal we're going to have to act fast."

Melanie sighed and looked out the nearby window into the darkness that blanketed the street of her neighborhood. Her lips formed a thin line for a brief moment and then she spoke: "So I guess the million dollar question is how to catch and Alpha werewolf."

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - And we're back! Thanks everyone for the new reviews, favs, and alerts. You're excitement is getting me excited for what's going to happen next. It's gonna be so good! I can't wait for you all to see it. So a new face has showed up around Beacon Hills High. What does he want? Well, you'll find out in future chapters. Please read and review, I love knowing what you think and if you have any guesses for the future of UIA.

Review Replies

_Biancs_ - Your english is great! I don't see anything you have to worry about with it. She may be a harpy, she may not be. We shall see soon. Yeah, Jackson can be an asshole but then he wouldn't be the asshole that we love if he weren't. As for Melanie and Isaac, they have a few trials ahead of them that will bring them together and test their relationship with one another. Erica and Mel have made up, thankfully, but whether they stay that way or not is the question, muahahahahaha. Thanks so much for your review.

_Guest_ (1) - You have no idea how much it means to me to know that you gave this story a chance when it doesn't fit your normal M.O. when it comes to stories and that you're enjoying it so much that you'll stick with it to the end. I hope you enjoy what I have planned for the future. Thanks for your review!

_Guest_ (2) - Mel doesn't like to be told what to do, that's for sure, and being placed on the sidelines is something that she can't handle. Like in lacrosse, she wants to be a part of the action and that isn't exempt here. Thanks for your review.


	17. Sinners and Saints

_**Chapter 17: Sinners and Saints (Valentine Special)**_

"_Happy Valentine's Day!_" Melanie chirped as she entered the kitchen that Tuesday morning. She grinned from ear to ear as she surveyed her parents who sat at the table, quietly sipping their coffee. Her eyes roamed over to the large flower bouquet that sat in a vase in the middle fo the table. "Nice flowers."

"Thanks. Your father bought them for me," Arabella replied. "From my own store so I knew they were coming," she added with a tight smile. Melanie ignored it. He always bought from her store because fo the discount. She should have expected it. "But they're lovely."

"They are," Melanie agreed, looking over the bright hues fo the red, yellow, pink, purple, and white flowers. "Anyway!" She clapped her hands together. "Reservations are for tonight at seven. Don't be late and dress to impress."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Laurence asked. "Valentine's Day isn't always about being romantic. We'd love to spend time with you too."

"Yeah, I'm sure. You two need some alone time," Melanie replied. She reached down and scratched between Nova's ears, who was curled up between Laurence's feet. He was chewing on a large bone that had a bow attached to the top of it. She smiled at the sight, it was a good little bit of relief in the tension-filled house. She nearly smacked into it when she woke up that morning but she forced a smile on her face and vowed, that despite everything, it would be a good day. They say to fake it until you make it for a reason, whoever 'they' are. "You like your present, don't you boy?" she addressed Nova.

"Speaking of presents…" Laurence reached beneath the table and picked up a bag stuffed with tissue paper. Melanie took it and eagerly dug through the tissue paper.

Her fingers brushed against something hard and she pulled out the gift to squeal and do a little jog on the spot. "Awesome! Thanks!" she exclaimed as she pulled out the noise cancelling headphones. She wrapped her arms around her dad's neck and squeezed tight, kissing his cheek. She then rushed over to her mom and kissed her cheek too. "Well, I'd stay but I gotta give Erica her gifts and begin my deliveries. This is gonna be the best day ever, I can already tell!"

**_# # #_**

"Hey hey!" Melanie trilled as she burst into Erica's bedroom. The door flying against the opposite wall didn't even make her flinch. She could barely contain her smile. It was so wide she was surprised the ends didn't touch her ears. "Happy Valentine's Day! Do you want your presents now or at school? I suggest you go with the first once because I can't wait for you to see it!" She started bouncing on her toes as Erica turned around in her computer chair.

"I guess I'll go with now then," she said with a teasing smile. "Mom and Dad are taking me out of school early anyway." She got off her chair and dropped down on her bed, heaving a large sigh.

"Yeah? You don't seem so excited," Melanie commented as she sat down on the plush mattress herself.

"It's always the same," Erica grumbled, grabbing a pillow and clutched it to her chest. "They try to talk me up and everything but…by the end they always take jabs at each other about how I'm…I'm me."

"And there's nothing wrong with you," Melanie said firmly, caressing Erica's dry hair. "Your parents are spending too much time throwing blame at one another for something that has no blame. You're not broken or anything. You have a medical condition, that's all. It doesn't define you."

"No…the video on youtube does."

"Erica Alexandria Reyes, you stop that right now. People are picking on you only because you allow them to because they can see it gets to you. You gotta keep your head up and march on and pretend that you're stomping on pepole's faces along the way because who the fuck cares?"

She sighed. "I'm just so tired of being a joke's punchline."

Melanie shrugged. "So change the joke," she stated. Then she reached over and slapped Erica on the thigh. Erica cried out and grabbed at her leg while Melanie snickered and waved her gift bag in Erica's face. "Now open your damn present!"

"Okay, okay!" Sitting up, Erica took the bag from her and pulled the ribbon off of it. Setting that aside, she reached in and pulled out the box that sat in it. She gave it a tentative shake and then removed the lid. Her mouth fell open as if she were screaming silently. A few seconds later the scream filled in and she pulled her gift out of the box. "Mel! These are _gorgeous_!" she gushed, turning the leopard print heels around in her palm.

"Look in the left shoe," Melanie prompted, bouncing in anticipation. Erica tilted the shoe and held out her palm. Her eyes widened when a silver ring tumbled out into her palm. "It was my grandmother's. She said to give it to my best friend because her best friend gave it to her."

"Aww," Erica cooed. She pressed her lips together, her smile wavering. Melanie blinked as Erica turned her head away and brushed her sleeve against her face. She flung her arms out and wrapped them around her best friend's neck, squeezing her tight. "Thank you," she whispered. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

Melanie had to bite down on her lip to keep from stating "I'm the _only_ friend you've ever had". She liked having her friend cry out of joy, not something that she had said without thinking. Melanie hugged her back and kissed the side of her head. "And _you're_ the best friend _I've_ ever had." She used her thumbs to brush away Erica's tears as she slid the ring onto her left hand. "Isn't that supposed to be on your other hand?"

Erica shrugged. "We're going to get married anyway," she replied, sniffing. She waved her hands around her eyes and then leaned over to reach under the bed, revealing a large bag.

Nearly tearing it out of Erica's grasp, Melanie yanked open the stapled-shut opening and then tossed the tissue paper atop of it into the air. She shoved her arm in, sticking out her tongue in an exaggerated manner, and then laughed as she pulled out a Build-a-Bear. "Aww, it's so cute!" she gushed, turning the light colored bear around in her arms. "Is it you?" she asked while tugging on the bottom of the t-shirt it was wearing with a large heart bedazzled in the middle.

"Kinda," Erica replied, a flush appearing on her cheeks. "Do you like it?"

"I _love_ it," Melanie stated, hugging the bear to her chest. "I'll even sleep with it so it's like I'm sleeping with you." She bumped Erica's arm with her elbow and kissed the top of the bear's head.

"There's more," Erica prompted. Melanie's eyebrows jumped up as she dug into the bag again. "I know it just looks like playing cards but they're made out of flash paper. Like magicians use. I know it's a bit weird but I thought you'd like it. Cause you used to make card castles when we were kids, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Thanks so much, Eri." Now Melanie was the one to brush the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Okay, enough of that. Let's get going! We have a school to help spread love around."

By the time the girls arrived at school Beacon Hills High School looked as if Cupid had thrown up all over its halls. Paper hearts were tapped to the classroom and locker doors. Red, white, and pink streamers hung from the ceiling and dipped low above the students' heads. A few of the teachers got into the holiday excitement as well, wearing red dresses or red ties. Even Mr. Harris joined in, though the extent of his participation was simply having the corner of a red handkerchief sticking out of his pocket.

Students who were part of the Student Life Committee skipped up and down the halls carrying single flower and flower bouquets in their arms, delivering them to those that trickled in early that morning. A few of them had costume wings attached to their backs to depict being cupid while some of the boys opted to carry around a Nerf bow and arrow.

Excited chatter flitted up and down the halls as girls gushed and cooed over flowers and boys stood by, fixing their hair and licking their lips. Those that didn't receive anything looked on in envy and whispered to one another.

Melanie smiled and clasped her hands together at the sight. If people forgot about the attacks that had occurred even for a second then she would call her plan a success. She would have jumped in the air and clicked her heels at her success if she didn't run the risk of knocking over the table and flowers nearby that she needed to organize and send out.

"Wow. Wings and all. You must love this holiday," Stiles commented, sidling up to the table. His thumbs were hooked in the straps of his backpacks and his eyes surveyed the colorful table.

"I do! It's the best," she gushed. "Oh! Wait!" She held up her finger, signaling for him to stay put as she ducked beneath the table. She sorted through a few of the flowers until she finally found a white rose. "Here ya go!" she said, whipping out with flower and attached note with a flourish.

"I – wow," Stiles uttered, taking the flower. "I didn't expect…this is so nice but who could have–?" He stopped spinning the thornless rose between his fingers and grabbed onto her arm. His eyes were wide and wild with possibilities. "Is this from – did Lydia send–?" He sucked in a breath, letting go of his arm to press his fist against his mouth and then blew out. "Wow, okay, this–"

"Stiles." Melanie carefully pulled his hand away from his mouth and patted the back of it, "_sweetie_. Come back to reality. Lydia didn't send you that. _I_ did."

"Oh." He visibly deflated and she rolled her eyes. His eyes shifted back and forth between her and the flower. "I mean _oh!_" He corrected himself as she pursed her lips. "That was very sweet of you Mels. I love it." She remained unfazed. "I really do."

"Mhm," she hummed, crossing her arms although a small smile appeared on her face. "Have you seen Scott? I have one for him as well." She turned this way and that as she spoke to see if she could spot him first. All she got were blank stares in return from students who were still half asleep trudging to their lockers.

"Oh, he's looking for Allison."

She twisted her mouth to the side. "Why am I not surprised?" she murmured.

"Hey, I thought you two were friends now."

"We are. I guess. I'm just saying they're pretty obsessed with one another," she explained while shifting her gaze to the flowers around her. She dragged her finger against a rose petal. "But it's whatever. Just let him know I have his flowers. I have a million other messages to deliver."

"Did you get any?"

"I don't know. I never took any orders that were for me." She fell silent and then her body jolted as if she had been struck with electricity when, in fact, she had been struck with a memory. "But!" She motioned Stiles closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Jackson bought a dozen red roses for Allison."

"What? _Why_?" Stiles demanded, his fingers clenching around the rose. It began to bend under his grip.

"If I knew why Jackson did the things he did I'd win a Nobel Peace Prize," she deadpanned. Stiles snorted, his lips pulling back in the corner. "Maybe he's just being nice for once."

"If he wanted to be nice he'd buy _you_ something."

She clicked her tongue. "I'd be offended if you weren't right. Still, it may not be a big deal. Let's just…wait and see." She shrugged. "It's Valentine's Day. What can happen?"

Apparently a lot could happen. From the time First Bell rang it was open season for Cupid. People were pairing up left and right and giggling over who knows what. For a while Melanie wondered if everyone had Beacon Hills High had been replaced with pod people but that was unlikely, even she had to admit to that. Werewolves were one thing but aliens were another.

But she had a blast delivering the flowers to people and seeing the looks of joy and surprise on their faces. It made her heart swell with pride knowing that she was responsible for it. Especially seeing the look on Erica's face once she saw the dozen red roses that Melanie delivered.

"You didn't have to do this," Erica gushed, pressing her nose in the middle of the flowers. "You've already done so much."

"I know that. But I wanted to." Melanie smiled. "You deserve the world."

And while the smile on Erica's face and the lasting glow on her cheeks put her in a good mood it didn't last. Her mind was still on her parents and how their relationship seemed to be stuck in an eternal rough patch. They had gotten married out of college. They defied the odds. Why was it falling apart now? What was going on that they couldn't work it out like all their other fights?

Melanie, mind still a fog, traded in her wings to get her books for French class. She settled into her desk and got her notebook out, ready for class. She tapped her shoe against the empty chair in front of her to a rhythmic beat and twisted a pen between her fingers as she waited.

"Hey Cupid." Melanie blinked and smiled up at Isaac as he passed by her and dropped down in the seat behind her. "Having fun?"

"I got to miss some classes to deliver flowers," Melanie replied, turning in her seat to rest her arm atop of his desk, "I'm having a blast."

"I don't doubt it," he said, his words slightly strained due to him leaning over to get his nooks out of his bag. "Did you, uh, get anything?"

"Nope," she said with a shrug. "But it's cool. The faces on those who got the flowers is good enough for me."

"So…I guess you don't want this?" He asked, sitting up straight and holding up a CD case. The clear front displayed the words _For Mello_ _– Mix CD_ written on the front. "It's not much. Just some songs I thought you'd like."

"Oh! Thanks, Isaac, that's very sweet of you," Melanie gushed, taking the CD case from him. She turned the case around to read the track listing written in his large and pointed handwriting.

"No, the flower was sweet, er, nice of you," he commented, running a hand through his hair. "You didn't have to."

"Neither did you," she replied, waving the CD.

They smiled at one another and settled into their seats as more students trickled in. Melanie set her CD case aside and then waved at Allison as she slipped in through the door, a flower clutched atop of her books. Her lips twitched at the sight of the red rose but then pulled back into a smile as Allison sat down in front of her.

"Who's that from?" Melanie asked, lifting her chin to point at it.

"Scott," Allison replied, spinning the rose between her fingers. She lightly touched the petals and then sighed. Melanie's mouth twisted to the side. "It's sweet but…with everything that happened…"

"Mabe…it's a peace offering," Melanie suggested. She scratched behind her ear and brushed her hand against her nose. "I mean…you guys never really were friends. You kinda just…jumped at each other."

Allison pushed a breath-like laugh out of her nose. "Yeah…"

"Maybe this is good for you two. You can get to know each other by, I don't know, actually _talking_?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Allison said with a laugh. She set the rose aside and turned around in her chair, resting her chin on her arms. "I just think…I still need more time. I mean…I don't feel I can trust him, y'know? But I do wish we can be friends one day. Scott's…he's a very good guy."

"Yeah, I know," Melanie sighed, resting her cheek on her palm. Allison's eyebrows twitched and Melanie cleared her throat. "So, are you doing anything special for today?"

Allison shook her head. "No. Actually, do you want to have lunch with Lydia and me today?"

"Considering my lunch date for the day is abandoning me for her parents, sure," Melanie replied. "We can have a female empowerment thing. Who needs boys on Valentine's Day?" She heard Isaac snort behind her and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Solidarity and all that stuff."

"Well…" Allison dragged out. Now Melanie's eyebrows twitched. '"Things are weird between her and Jackson lately. I want to cheer her up."

"Retail therapy's not working?"

"No."

"Wow. Things _must_ be bad. He didn't plan _anything?_"

"Not as far as I know," Allison replied. Melanie grunted. _Shouldn't have gotten him that flower then_, she scolded herself. And to think she wanted to be nice to him for once only for him to turn around and do something so…so Jackson-y. "She's very…not Lydia. I dunno, I think just spending time away from him would be good. As much as she can anyway. Especially today. I don't think he has anything planned for her."

"Well, we'll make sure she has a good time," Melanie promised.

"Thanks. I know you two aren't exactly the _closest_ friends—"

Melanie waved her hand, brushing aside Allison's words. "That doesn't matter. No one should feel shitty on Valentine's Day. It's not all about loving someone you're dating. It's about loving your friends and yourself too." She sighed. "It's sad; people always forget that part."

**_# # #_**

Erica's face held a grimace as she tugged on her dress here and there. Her shoulder straps didn't sit right, the skirt didn't hold onto her waist in a good way, and her red lipstick only seemed to make the dark circles under her eyes stand out. She tried using concealer and foundation but nothing she had worked, despite her best efforts. And while her makeup covered up the redness of the acne dotted across her face she still felt as if someone could visually play connect the dots if they looked at her.

"Erica, sweetie, come on. Your father's waiting for us," Mrs. Reyes said as she smoothed down her skirt with her hands.

Erica locked eyes with her mother in the bathroom mirror. Her mother's blonde hair was pulled back into an easy, sleek ponytail. Something Erica's hair would never be able to do no matter how much gel she put into it. And her mother's dress perfectly hugged her curves in all the right places. She was radiant in red. Erica felt like a large inflamed pimple in comparison.

"He's the one who left us, I'm sure he can wait five minutes," Erica mumbled, surveying her makeup in the mirror. She lifted a hand and lightly brushed it against the acne across her forehead.

"You don't want to be rude. Your father still loves you, you know," Mrs. Reyes commented. She sighed and crossed her arms as she watched her daughter. "And please, stop touching your face. You know it's only going to make your acne worse."

"Funny, I thought the medicine was doing that." Erica finally turned away from the mirror and regarded her mother. "Can I please switch to different medication."

"You know nothing else has worked, sweetie," Mrs. Reyes said, stepping forward to caress her daughter's hair. "This is the only one with results. When you take it," she added, giving her daughter a pointed stare. Erica looked away. "Would you rather be healthy or have clear skin?"

"Mom, I'm in _high school_," Erica stated, the short sentence saying more than her brain could come up with. Surely her mother had to understand how hard being in high school was, especially now. Surely her mother could recall a time where she was in high school worried about the same things as her daughter.

Mrs. Reyes sighed, smoothed down her hair and said, "And none of this will matter once you leave. We shouldn't keep your father waiting any longer. Come on." She placed her hands on Erica's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Stop looking in the mirror. Your reflection isn't going to change."

Erica turned away from the mirror and begrudgingly followed her mother out of the bathroom and to the main floor of the café. They used to visit the café a lot when she was younger. When they were a happy family. It was the same place that her parents announced their divorce. Erica remembered the exact table they were sitting at, the exact time of day, and the exact meal she was eating when she had been delivered the news. Why would they possibly want to come back?

"There she is," Mr. Reyes said with a small smile. "I started to think that you had climbed out of the bathroom window."

"I wouldn't be able to fit even if I wanted to," Erica grumbled, sitting down and placing a napkin on her lap. She clasped her hands together and rested them atop of her lap, ignoring the exasperated sigh that wracked her mother's body.

"She's just joking," Mrs. Reyes said. Erica licked her lip and pressed them together. They stung where cracks had formed. "It's very nice of you to ask us out, Julian."

Erica scoffed. Mr. Reyes only talked to them when they needed a briefing on a case that he was a part of just so they could stay up to speed and around holidays and Erica's birthday. Otherwise all was quiet on his side. Sometimes she even forgot he existed until he came back around for one reason or another. How often was he around his other family or were they just there to keep up his family-man image?

"I wanted to make sure you two were doing well," Mr. Reyes replied, pulling his glasses to the edge of his nose as he peered at the menu in his hands. Not that he needed to look at it, he ordered the exact same thing every time he went to the café.

"We're fine," Mrs. Reyes replied, her words stiff. "We're getting by. When you left you didn't exactly leave us destitute. I can care for Erica and I have been." She reached out for her glass of champagne and took a sip of it. After she put it down she dabbed her napkin against her mouth. "Just like before."

"Come on, Alicia, don't be like that. You know that I still love you both," Mr. Reyes said, removing his glasses from his face entirely. "It's Valentine's Day after all. About _el amor_." He set his menu down and reached beneath his seat for a silver box with a large red ribbon attached to it. "I hope you like it, Princess."

Erica accepted the box and tugged on the ribbon. It slid through the loop and popped open easily. She ran her cracked fingernails underneath the rim of the box and popped the lid off. She pushed aside the tissue paper inside and gasped. Her mouth hung open as she pulled the lacey black mini dress out of the box and held it to her chest.

"It's beautiful, Dad," she said. Turning the dress around, she flipped the top of it back to look at the take. A rock fell into her stomach when she saw the size. She swallowed and smiled as best as she could. "it's, um, it's not my size. But…but it's okay—"

"I _told_ you what her size was," Mrs. Reyes said with a roll of her eyes. "You can't even remember that?"

"I have many sizes to try and remember, Alicia. It is a little mistake!" Mr. Reyes defended. Erica winced and carefully put the dress back into the box. "She can always lose a little weight to fit into it, yes? That is what she always says, she wants to lose weight."

"Erica's _fine_," Mrs. Reyes hissed. "The medicine may have put some extra weight on her but she's still beautiful."

"I never said she wasn't, Alicia! I'm saying that maybe she would be happier if she could lose a few pounds."

"It's the medicine that's doing it! It's not as if she's sitting around stuffing her face."

"Well then, maybe you should changer her medicine. She would look a lot better and smile a bit more."

"_Julian!_"

Erica's eyes swung back and forth between her parents as if she were watching a tennis volley. Her heart pounded and her palms flooded with sweat. She swallowed the lump in her throat and licked her lips. Her mother had spent so much time trying to tell her that she was beautiful but then her father said the opposite. Has her mother been lying to her the entire time? Melanie too?

She placed her hand on her stomach and pinched. Her skin rolled between her fingers. Her shoulders dropped. Her fingers twitched on her lap and she had to cross her legs to keep from getting up and going to the bathroom. There was no point in going now; she'd only end up hurting her throat due to having an empty stomach.

Erica almost threw herself at the waiter's feet when he arrived, stopping her parents from speaking. She picked up her menu and quickly scanned the menu. While her stomach growled, she forced herself not to go straight for the burger which was her usual first choice in restaurants. As good as they were she didn't want the extra weight sitting on her.

"I think…I think I'll just go with a chicken caesar wrap. No dressing, please," she said and then closed her menu. "And may I please have a diet coke?"

"You don't want anything else, Princess? It's on me," Mr. Reyes said with a small smile. "Eat as much as you'd like."

"I'm not that hungry," Erica replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "But thanks."

"So, Princess, you have a dance coming up soon, yes?" Mr. Reyes asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, winter formal." She pulled her lower lip into her mouth just thinking about it. She had avoided it for so long but it was inevitable now. The talk around school was shifting from normal coursework griping to what dresses had been bought, where manicure appointments had been booked, and who was doing their hair. Something that brought joy and excitement to the other girls only brought stress to Erica. At least that's what she was blaming her new crop of acne on.

"Are you excited? I know how much you looked forward to formal last year."

_Last year I hadn't gained twenty pounds_. The thought shot through Erica's mind before she could stop it. It only made her bite down on her lip, the brief pain a sort of punishment for letting the offending thought invade her mind. But she had no control over it. It was louder and much more aggressive than her normal thoughts. It demanded attention.

"I guess," she mumbled, playing with the straw in her water. Her ice clinked against the side of her glass.

"So, who is the lucky young man that is going to escort you?"

"There isn't one," Erica replied, stopping her sentence before she could finish it with, "because no one would want to take a fat blob to a dance."

"Well then they are _estúpido_. They will be missing out on taking a real catch," Mr. Reyes declared.

_If I'm such a catch why aren't I enough for you to stay with Mom? _But Erica kept her lips pressed together and forced a smile. It briefly disappeared as she thanked the waiter for bringing her the diet coke she had ordered. She wrapped her lips around the straw and pulled the sweet drink into her mouth. The soda fizzed and bubbled on her tongue and while she liked the taste of it it just wasn't enough.

She wished she were old enough to drink.

**_# # #_**

Coach Finstock kept his whistle tight between his lips, his cheeks puffing up with every blow. He stood by and surveyed the part of the team on the field as they ran drills and took shots on goal. The rest of the team sat on the benches and watched and waited. The quarter finals game was in two days and it didn't come as a surprise to anyone that Finstock was on an obsessive streak to beat their opponents.

Isaac just wondered why he was still there for practice. He wasn't on first line; neither were any of the other players that sat on the bench with him. If Finstock had his way he'd keep the first line players in the game the entire time. He huffed. He wanted to get out there, to sprint along the grass and knock anyone out of his way and feel power course through him that was absent off the field. He wanted control and Finstock was holding it out of his reach.

"Why are we even here?" a teammate, Matt, asked. He passed his stick back and forth in his palms as he waited, more for something to do rather than actually using it.

"My thoughts exactly," Isaac grumbled.

"I get why Greenberg isn't playing 'cause he's, well, he's _Greenberg_—"

"Hey!" Greenberg protested from Matt's other side.

Matt ignored him and continued speaking, "—but the rest of us? I could be developing pictures right now."

"Yeah, well, my alternative is digging holes for dead people so I think this is a good improvement," Isaac commented. He shifted so his chin rested in his palm as he watched Jackson take a shot on goal. It bounced off Danny's stick handle and flew into the air. The two battled for the ball of which Jackson managed to get and fling into the net.

"That's it, Jackson! That's how you score!" Coach Finstock cheered, punching his fists into the air. Some of the boys on the team patted his back and slapped his helmet as he walked back to his starting place. Finstock blew his whistle again and turned towards the bench. "Alright, everyone gather around. Except you, Greenberg. Go stand over there. I don't want to be anywhere near you. You might infect me like you did with the others on the team. Thanks for that."

Isaac stood behind the other players, waiting for whatever it was he was going to stay. He easily towered over the other players so he felt no need to be close. Besides, it wasn't as if anything Coach was going to say pertained to him. Even so he wasn't in a rush to go home. Being greeted by an empty house wasn't exactly his ideal way to end the day.

"Listen up. Quarter finals is this Friday and we're going to win it. There's no losing option. I don't even want to _talk_ about the L word. We're going up against a tough team but we can beat them. Jackson took them down almost singlehandedly last year." Isaac glanced over at Jackson to see a large, smug smile appear on his face. "But _this _year- this year we have Jackson _and_ Scott holding the front line. We'll be _unstoppable_!" Jackson's smile fell from his face and he kicked at the dirt beneath his cleat. "But just in case one of you breaks, I don't know, something as pathetic as a _pinky_ in the game we're going to run some drills. I'll call out your names and throw a ball and like dogs fighting over a toy you're going to try and get the ball and score a goal. Danny, you're in goal on this side. Greenberg, get in goal on this side. I can't stand the sight of you right now, infecting my teammates like that. How inconsiderate of you."

Once Greenberg and Danny got into place Coach Finstock called out names and threw a ball, catching people off guard as they sprinted for the ball to score a goal. Naturally Jackson and Scott were called first causing the rest of the group team to call out their support for either one, Stiles being the loudest as he cheered for Scott.

Isaac couldn't help but watch and wonder just how Scott got so good overnight. One day he was wheezing as he ran up and down the field, getting knocked over by a few hits. He wasn't the worst on the team but he wasn't the best either. And then he suddenly became _good_. Better than good, he was great. Isaac worked hard to get to the condition he was at and yet Scott made it there in _one_ day and became the star of the team.

It just didn't make sense…

"Let's go, Lahey! Get your head out of the clouds!"

His whole body jerked at the sound of hearing his name called and he looked up. The ball arched through the air and bounced off the ground once. Wind grabbed at Isaac's clothes as he sprinted for the ball. His long legs gave him the advantage and he managed to pass Matt as they tore onto the field. Isaac dropped his stick and scooped up the ball, cradling it as he ran for the goal that Danny was blocking.

Matt came in front the side and slapped his stick against Isaac's, trying to knock the ball out. Isaac tightened his grip on his stick. He dug his shoes in the ground to stop and change direction, his calves tensing at the sudden stop. Matt continued to try and check Isaac; a few times he even managed to knock him off balance but Isaac held on.

When Matt got the ball Isaac gritted his teeth. His chest puffed out with every heavy breath he expelled. There was no way he was going to let someone who joined the team for something to do beat him. Lacrosse was his life, not just some sport. It was one thing he knew he was good at. He could feel it in his soul. And maybe, just maybe, if he played well enough he could make first line and his father would come to one of his games.

Matt couldn't stand in the way of that chance.

Isaac let his body take over as Matt charged towards Greenberg in goal. The cheers and screams from his teammates fell to the wayside. The sound of his heart beating in his chest pushed out any sound that reached his ears. He took off after Matt, keeping his eyes on his sprinting teammate. He watched as Matt took a shot at goal. Greenberg blocked it and threw the ball up into the air.

Isaac pounced.

He managed to reach up and grab it despite Matt trying the same. Their sticks slapped together amidst their midair grappling but Isaac was the successful one in the mini fight. The ball dropped into his net and he kept it close to his body as he ran, turning to the side to block out Matt. Sweat dripped down his temples beneath his helmet as he ran and dotted his forehead. He kept his arm out, holding Matt at bay. His lips twisted into a smug smile. Matt was good but he was better.

Grunting, Isaac spun around Matt, took one step, and shot the ball at the goal. The white ball sailed past Danny's outstretched lacrosse stick and smacked against the net behind him. _He shoots, he scores!_ Isaac punched his fists into the air in triumph as his teammates cheered from the sidelines. He then curled his gloved hand into a fist as best as he could and bumped it against Matt's.

"Nice shot, dude," Matt congratulated him. "I thought I had you there."

"You almost did," Isaac admitted, pulling his helmet off his head. He let out a breath and added, "But almost isn't close enough. Try again next time."

Matt rolled his eyes and led his way back to the bench as Coach Finstock blew the whistle again. Isaac looked over his shoulder and watched Stiles and Melanie run for the ball that Coach threw. Stiles reached it first and, instead of going for a shot on Danny he started taunting her, bouncing from side to side as if trying to fake her out on which way to go.

For a second her shoulders dropped, she hung her lacrosse stick down by her knees but then she slapped at his net with the head of her stick. The ball popped into the air and she caught it, dodged around him. He was hot on her heels but before she reached the goal she stopped altogether and ducked. Stiles, not anticipating it, stumbled over her and crashed to the ground giving her enough time to stand, set up her shot and take it. It bounced off the ground and straight back into the goal past Greenberg's net. She briefly celebrated and then held out her hand to help Stiles to his feet.

A smattering of applause came from the teammates on the sidelines. Isaac looked down at his hands and stayed quiet. Experience taught him it was much simpler to keep his head down and keep quiet. It would all blow over much faster and leave less damage in its wake.

Practice ended with more matchups going toe-to-toe with different combinations being thrown in to simulate the team they would be playing at the end of the week. Jackson saw the field more often than anyone else. Isaac was surprised he faced off against his captain. There was a reason Jackson had earned the name, he dominated the field. Isaac did his best to hold him off, he even managed to move past him a few times but Jackson always came out on top. Even when he looked as frail and sickly as he did.

Jackson wasn't one he tended to compare himself to. Having grown up across the street from his classmate he saw Jackson in all walks of life. He had an intimate view in what made him tick. And while Isaac knew a fair amount he couldn't say he wanted to be Jackson. Yeah, Jackson had money and the looks and the cars and the popularity but his attitude and his outlook soured it. Like a ruined oil painting. He would take Jackson's brazen drive and talent on the field, though. Maybe then he could finally please his father.

"Game's Friday night. It's the _quarter_ _finals_. If you even want to dream of continuing our streak you'll show up and play like your hearts are about to explode! Got it?" Coach Finstock said, his eyes wide and wild. "I want you pushing yourselves out there. I want you passing out! I want you throwing up! I want your bags of flesh strewn over the benches. I want to _win_! Now get out of my faces. Especially you, Greenberg, quit breathing down my neck!"

Isaac followed the herd of players to the locker rooms where they hooped and holler at one another in efforts to pump themselves up for the upcoming game. Isaac brushed past them and went straight for the shower, opting for the brief relief of the cold water on his head, ridding him of the layer of heat that radiated off his reddened, sweat-slicked skin. By the time he got out of the shower he was the last one in the locker room. Everyone else had left to go home or celebrate the holiday in some capacity.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Isaac left the locker room and headed for his locked up bike. Once he got it free he swung his leg over the bars and took off. Beach Hills High School grew smaller the further Isaac rode away but he didn't head straight home. There was no point. His father wasn't there and they didn't have anything in the house to eat. Not anything he could make without permission, anyway.

His legs burned by the time he reached the edge of the woods nearby but still he kept going. He drove around tree roots, rode over dry branches and twigs on the ground and navigated his way to his destination. A pond-like body of water. He squeezed the brakes on his bike; his rear wheel skidded across the loose dirt and rocks beneath the tire. He tossed it aside, removed his bag to drop it to the ground, and went straight up to the water's edge. The woods was a sort of sanctuary to him before the half dismembered body had been found. He and Camden spent a lot of time there.

_"Come on, Ike, it's not that much further," Camden called over his shoulder, his voice a laughing lilt as he forged ahead. His long legs covered a lot of ground, making Isaac have to work harder to keep up. "Come on, come on! Move faster, slow poke!"_

_"Slow down!" Isaac_ _begged, running after him. "I can't…I can't move that fast."_

_Camden stopped in his tracks. He ran a hand through his hair and peered back at his brother. Isaac's gait immediately slowed and his limp became more prominent. Isaac looked up at his brother, his eyes wide as he waited. Had he done something wrong?_

_"Your leg still hurting?" Camden asked. Isaac nodded, wringing his hands together as he still approached his older brother. "Yeah, you really took a tumble down those stairs."_

_"Dad pushed me," Isaac grumbled._

_"Come on, Ike, Dad wouldn't do that. I'm sure he tried to help you."_

_"He pushed me."_

_Camden sighed and then motioned for his brother to come closer. Once Isaac stood in front of him and knelt and lifted his brother's pants' leg. He grimaced at the sight of the black and blue mess that was his knee. His nose wrinkled but he relaxed his face before Isaac could see his reaction. "That's not too bad," he said. "I've seen worse." Isaac stared at him, his lip stiff in an incredulous manner. Chuckling, Camden stood and ruffled his brother's long hair. "Hey, bud, I'll show you how to skip rocks."_

_Isaac's lips parted and his eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, shuffling forward._

_"Yeah. It's easy. All you do is pick up a flat rock and…well, let's find some first." Camden shoved his hands into the pockets of his Beacon Hills High letterman jacket and started flipping rocks over with his feet. He would hum every now and then, a tune that Isaac heard a lot whenever his brother was home from overseas. When he wasn't shut up in his room, that is. Any time Isaac could spend with his big brother was time he cherished. Camden wasn't around that much anymore._

_"Is this good?" Isaac asked, picking up a rock._

_Camden looked over his shoulder and shook his head. "No, it needs to be flatter. Like…like this one." He reached down and picked up a rock, brushing dirt off the surface. He paused to tuck his dogtags into his shirt and then picked up another rock. Once standing at full height, with a jerk of his head, he motioned Isaac to come closer. "See, you hold it in your hand like this. It needs to nestle in between your finger and thumb. You bring your arm back and flick your wrist, like this." Camden reached back and effortlessly flicked the rock across the surface of the water. It bounced six times before sinking. "Easy peasy."_

_"Wait, how do you do it again?" Isaac asked. He flipped the rock over in his hands._

_"Like this, bud." Camden crouched next to Isaac and positioned his hand the right way. "And now you bring your arm back like this…and flick it." He guided Isaac's arm back and then forward as he threw the rock. It bounced four times and then smacked against the water, sinking below. "You did it, Ike!"_

_"Yeah, but you helped," Isaac replied, although the pride wasn't lost in his voice._

_"Of course! I'm your big bro. I'll always be around to help you."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Promise."_

Ker-_plunk_! The placid surface of the water shattered as the ripples from the rock Isaac threw stretched towards the shore. He brushed the single droplet off his cheek and blinked his burning eyes. His chest swelled as he took in a breath and then let it out. His hand went up to his neck where it followed the ball chain necklace down to the tags that hung on the end. He rubbed his thumb over the faded inscription on it. He had memorized it ages ago.

LAHEY  
>CAMDEN V.<br>574-08-XXXX  
>B Positive<br>N/A

"You promised," Isaac whispered, his stare never breaking from the surface of the water. Light wind brushed past his ears. He swore, nestled deep within the wind he could hear his brother's laughter.

**_# # #_**

Night had fallen ages ago; twinkling stars dotted the night sky and the bright moon bathed the darkened streets in silvery light but still Melanie didn't move from the driver's seat of her truck. She couldn't move. Her muscles kept her rooted to the spot; her fingers gripped the steering wheel. It was her lifeline. She was sure if she let go of the bumpy steering wheel she would break down completely.

Her nose was stuffed and her eyes burned but she refused to let the tears fall. She took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth. She breathed in again and let it out once more. The lump in her throat broke as she swallowed it, making her breathing a little bit easier than before. She had stopped shaking long ago and now felt strong enough to look at her phone again.

Slowly removing her hands from the wheel, she picked up her abandoned phone from the passenger seat and red the message on it again and again and again. Only when the words started to blur due to the tears lining her eyes did she lock the screen with her thumb. She sniffed and brushed her arm against her eyes, removing the tears that waited to fall over. She let out a heavy breath again and lifted her phone to her face but stopped at the reflection that was now on the screen.

A red eye.

Heart jumping into her throat, she pumped the handle on the door of her truck and launched herself out of the seat. Her feet barely touched the ground before she flew up the sidewalk and the front porch to the house she was parked in front of. Her fist hammered on the door as she glanced over her shoulder. Right as the door swung open the pair of red eyes disappeared into a nearby brush and Melanie squeezed her way in through the gap.

"Melanie, what on earth—?" Mrs. Reyes managed to gasp at the sight of the frazzled young girl. Only when she turned her blue eyes to her did Mrs. Reyes's face fall and her eyes softened, unshed tears lined her own eyelids. "Oh dear. I heard. Are you alright, sweetie? Can I do anything?" she asked as she gathered the trembling girl to her body to give her a hug. Melanie buried her face into Mrs. Reyes's chest and held her tight. "I was just on my way. Do you want me to take you to—"

"No!" Melanie's reply was muffled due to her face being pressed into Mrs. Reyes's body. "No, I don't…I don't need to go." She rubbed her arm across her eyes again as she leaned away from the older woman. "I just want to see Erica. If that's okay."

"Yes. Of course. I'll let your parents know you're here. You're welcome to stay the night. I insist, in fact." Mrs. Reyes sniffed and dotted the back of her hand against her steadily red-growing nose. "But if you change your mind I can come back for you."

"I know. Thank you." Melanie detangled herself from Mrs. Reye's arms and ran up the stairs. Bursting into her best friend's bedroom she was greeted with the sight of Erica lying haphazardly atop of her comforter. "Eri," she breathed, sagging against the door, using the handle to keep her up.

"Mellie!" Erica cheered. She tried to use her arms to push herself up into a sitting position only to fall over. "Whoopsie!" she trilled. "Come lay down with me, Mellie. The room's spinning."

"Eri, what did you do?" Melanie asked, sitting down on the edge of Erica's bed. "Are…are you _drunk_?"

"Just a teeny tiny bit," Erica replied, holding up her thumb and index finger. "I had some of mom's wine after lunch with Dad." She giggled, her cheeks flushing red. "She was _soooooooooo_ mad. But Dad was mean. This is his fault. He was so mean. I don't like him."

Melanie reached back and gently ran her fingers through Erica's hair, swallowing the lump that threatened to form again as she peered down at her intoxicated friend. "But that doesn't mean you should turn to drinking."

"You weren't around. I had nothing else to do." Erica tried to sit up again, this time using Melanie's knee as leverage. "This is what happens when you're not around. I do dumb stuff. I always need you around, Mellie. You're like my guarding. My angel. You're the best."

Melanie sighed and briefly touched her palm to her forehead. Her troubles could wait; Erica needed her at the moment. Now if only the weight on her chest would get the memo. "Okay, let's get you to bed," she announced, standing so she could pull back the comforter. "You need some sleep."

"No! You're leaving!" Erica whined. "I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving. I'm staying here tonight," Melanie replied. "I'll be right next to you. But you need to get some rest."

"You'll stay the night?" Erica rolled over until she was at the head of the bed. Her glassy eyes stared up at her best friend.

"Yes."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise." Melanie pulled the covers down as far as she could and the lifted Erica's legs so she could lift the comforter back up to her chin. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Erica's forehead and she snuggled against her pillows.

"You're the best. The best friend." Erica reached out and wrapped her arms around Melanie's neck. As Melanie started to pull away from Erica's tight hug Erica grabbed her face and kissed her. Melanie's eyes popped open and she had to grab onto the headboard to hold herself up due to Erica's sudden strength. Once she pulled away she brushed her nose against Melanie's and muttered, "I love you so much."

"Yeah…I love you too, Eri," Melanie mumbled, pulling away from her.

Erica dropped her arms and peered up at Melanie. Her head tilted and then her eyes widened. "That was bad!" she gasped. "That was bad. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, Eri, it's fine," Melanie replied. "Just…next time you kiss me…make sure you've gargled mouthwash first." She tried to laugh but her body didn't work that well to bring forth the sound. Erica didn't seem to notice as a peaceful smile appeared on her face and then her face relaxed as sleep took hold of her.

Melanie crossed over to Erica's window, kicking off her shoes as she went. She learned towards the glass, her nose barely touching it as she looked outside and then up and down the street. No glowing Alpha eyes in sight. _Thank goodness_.

She grabbed onto the curtains and yanked them shut before taking off her socks as she walked back over to the bed. Pausing briefly to turn off the light she then climbed into bed. Her head hit the plush pillow and her body melted into the mattress, her tense muscles relaxing almost instantly. Erica's soft, steady breathing filled the air and she focused on that sound to help herself relax enough to get into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Guess who's back? I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I hadn't had a lot of time to write lately but I recently put in my two weeks at one of my jobs so I should have a lot more time freed up to write some more! This is a chapter that details a deviation I talked about before. Showwise this chapter would be part of the Wolf's Bane episode but, to go with what I have planned, the episode is going to be stretched out. You'll understand in the next chapter. I can't wait for you guys to see what I have in store for the rest of the season, it's gonna be good!

So what did you think of this chapter? We got to see through the eyes of Melanie, Erica, _and_ Isaac on this special day. Each one of them is dealing with something that brought them down. For Erica it's her father and her parents' divorce, for Isaac it's the aftermath of his brother's death, and for Melanie, well, you'll see what's got her down in the next chapter. ;) _And Erica kissed Mel!_ (Well she was drunk, but still). Wonder how this will play out. :)

Also! Another deviation of sorts was that I know that Matt and Isaac had known each other since he was involved in the season two near drowning incident and was basically explained to not be close after it happened, but I wanted Isaac to have some sort of relationship with people on his lacrosse team so Matt was it. And considering how season 2 goes it only made sense that Matt was the one.

I want to thank you all for being so patient with me and the time it took for em to update. Please read and review! I'd love to know what you all think!

~C.M.


	18. Argency

**Chapter 18: Argency**

Shafts of sunlight broke through the slightly parted curtains of Erica's room and hit the bed the two girls occupied. A few landed on the covers but one particularly harsh beam rested on Melanie's face and roused her from sleep. Not that the sunlight needed any help in that, she had been hovering between being awake and being a sleep for hours.

Flashes of the Alpha's red eyes popped up just when she thought that she would drift off to sleep. Each time a cold sweat would settle on her skin and the hair on her arms would stick up. She'd have to get out of bed to pace around to get back into a relaxed enough state to even try to entertain the idea of going back to sleep. Then the cycle would start all over again. She prayed that maybe, somehow, she had managed to sleep and wake straight through to the weekend but one glance at her phone told her otherwise.

It was only Thursday. Great.

She rubbed a hand across her face, swiping out the crud out from the corners of her eyes. A short succession of knocks sounded on the other side of the door before it popped open. Mrs. Reyes's eye appeared in the crack and then it swung open even wider.

"Morning," she said.

"Morning," Melanie rasped in response, sitting up all the way.

Mrs. Reyes stepped further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She brushed Melanie's bed-ruffled bangs off her forehead. "How are you?"

Melanie ducked out of her reach and shrugged. "I'm fine. Tired." She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it over to one side of her shoulder. She half-turned, glancing at Erica's still sleeping form over her shoulder. "How are _you_?" she asked, directing her gaze over to Mrs. Reyes.

"Tired," she replied. Melanie hummed, her eyebrows briefly jumping up. "Your father called this morning. Said he informed the school about what happened. He wants you to go to the hospital as soon as you're ready."

"Mmm…nah," Melanie replied, shaking her head. "I want to go to school." She bounced once on the edge of the bed to get to her feet. She crossed the room to Erica's dresser and pulled the top one out, grabbing a shirt. She held it up to her front to see how it looked on her. Her nose wrinkled, she shook her head, and then grabbed another. This one got her nod of approval and she draped it over her arm and went to the bedroom door, only stopping when Mrs. Reyes lightly grabbed her elbow.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Mrs. Reyes asked. Melanie shrugged again. Mrs. Reyes stood and clasped her hands together and sighed. "The school will understand. Erica can get your homework, you won't fall behind."

"It's Thursday. What's the point of missing when I only have two days left?" She moved to the bedroom door and opened it. "Besides, I need to be at practice for the big game tomorrow. It's the quarter finals. Stiles is playing first string, I have to cheer him on and be around in case they need me. Coach wouldn't be happy if I missed practice this close to an important game."

"Melanie—"

"I'll wake Erica if she's not up by the time I'm done."

"Melanie—"

Melanie sighed. "Mrs. Reyes, my mom is being held at the hospital. She's not going to get out anytime soon. She'll still be there when the week is over. So…there's not much of a rush for me to get there, is there?" Mrs. Reyes's eyes shifted downcast. "Didn't think so."

Once out in the hall, she pulled the door shut. It settled into the door frame with a soft _click_. Her entire body sagged as she let out a long breath, prompting her to briefly rest against the door behind her to keep herself up. She gripped the shirt in her hands a little tighter and pushed away from the wall, crossing the hall to the bathroom.

She welcomed the warm steam on her face once the water in the shower warmed up. She took the time to scroll through the messages on her phone from her father but she didn't open any of them. She flicked the list up and down with her thumb, reading the brief excerpt of each message before it was cut off by an ellipses. Tapping her thumb against the new text bubble, she waited for it to load and sent one out to her father:

_Going to school. Be home later._

The text had barely been sent out when she got another one coming in. She glanced at the name only to jab and hold the power button on her phone to turn it off. The last thing she wanted to deal with were a bunch of condolence-filled texts that were half-hearted and obligatory more than they were actually sincere.

The shower was nice relief from the itchy, dried sweat that had settled on her skin and made her feel grimy. The steam and warm water wrapped her up like a cocoon; she didn't want to leave. Reality lived on the other side of the curtain. It was an ugly monster with sharp teeth, waiting for her to be vulnerable enough to snap and sink its teeth into her exposed nerves.

The lump in her throat bobbed as she swallowed and dragged her hands though her wet hair. Her eyelids burned as she squeezed them together. It was easy to blame that on the shower. The steam hurting her eyes could be explained for the redness that had settled in. Standing beneath the showerhead could be explained for the droplets falling down her cheeks. The heat in the room could be explained for her heaving chest and gasping for air between her sobs.

The lump in her throat finally broke through, sliding down into her depths. She took in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. She had a school day to face; it couldn't be done with a weak lip. Stiffening it, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. She dried herself off and changed into her school clothes for the day. The drastic change in temperature on the other side of the bathroom door made goosebumps appear on her arm. Ignoring them, she descended the stairs and went into the kitchen where Mrs. Reyes stood over a hot pan where pancakes cooked on the surface. Melanie walked past her to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and went back upstairs.

"Morning," she greeted Erica as she burst into the room. She chuckled at the groan from the Erica-shaped figure beneath the blankets. Melanie yanked open the curtains and then jumped onto the bed. "Come on. Up and at 'em. We got school to go to!"

"Mellie, don't you think we can take it down a few decibels?" Erica groaned, removing the blankets from her face. A second later she screamed and covered her eyes with her hands. "And turn down the sun, maybe?"

"Sorry, sunshine, can't do that," Melanie replied. In midjump she curled her legs in a sitting position and landed on the duvet. "Maybe this will teach you not to drink so much, huh?" She nudged Erica's elbow with the Gatorade bottle. "Whatever made you so upset, I'm sure the answer to dealing with it can't be found at the bottom of a bottle."

Erica sat up and brushed her hair out of her face. She then turned her pout to Melanie but took the Gatorade bottle. She unscrewed the cap, breaking the seal, and chugged the sweet sports drink until it was half empty. "God, I think someone's playing the bongos in my head."

"What song is it? We Will Rock You? That's a good one!" Melanie began slapping her knees and clapping her hands to mimic the beat of the song. "_Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, playin' in the street gonna be a big man someday_—"

"Stop!" Erica cried out. She shot out her hand and pressed it against Melanie's mouth, muffling the rest of the song. Her cheeks bloomed red and she removed her hand, dropping it into her lap. "You suck," she mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I might, but the only person I'll ever suck around is you." Melanie reached out and tapped Erica's nose. "Now, you get dressed, take some painkillers, and come down for breakfast. Your mom's making pancakes." She rocked back and forth a few times until she used the momentum to lean forward to kiss Erica's cheek.

Erica backed away from her. She cleared her throat at the puzzled look on Melanie's face. "I just….bad breath," she explained, motioning around her mouth. "Wouldn't want to kill you."

"Death by bad breath. Hmmm." Melanie's eyebrow twitched. With a grunt, she rolled backwards off the bed and got to her feet, holding out her arms briefly to keep from falling over. On her way out the door she paused to look at the picture on the tableside dresser of herself, Erica, and their mothers a couple years ago at Disneyland. She pressed her lips together. "There are worse ways to go."

**# # #**

The steady _tick tock tick tock_ of the clock on the wall above the secretary's head chimed in time with each and every second Melanie's nerves were rubbed. She huffed and shifted her position in the chair she had occupied since she set foot in the school that morning. It was one thing to have pitying looks sent her way by the students but it was another to have them sent her way by the secretary who was holding her against her will as they waited for the principal to be finished with whatever it was that had him occupied.

"I'm going to be late for first period," Melanie spoke up, her words dull and slightly slurred.

"Your teacher's already been notified of your absence," the secretary replied.

"Well that's all fine and good but I'm not absent. I'm _here_. And I just want to go to class but you're not letting me. Is that even possible? Keeping students from going to class when they want to be there? Isn't that against some sort of code? Some unspeakable teacher's code? '_Thou shalt not impede on students' learning'?_"

The secretary paused her typing and looked up at her, effectively stopping Melanie's rambling. The secretary lips pressed into a line, whitening until she let the pressure go. She clasped her hands together and twiddled her thumbs. "Are you done?" she asked. "Or, if you'd like to continue to fill the silence, be my guest. Anything to distract you from the…events that just transpired for you." Melanie's eyebrows twitched, one lowering slightly than the other but she didn't speak. "You're not the only one who's gone through this sort of pain. Unfortunately you won't be the last either. I won't comment on how you choose to cope but…sometimes silence helps."

The principal's door opened with an elongated creak; it reminded Melanie of the nose her grandmother's knees made whenever she stood from her rocking chair. She sat up straighter and looked up as the principal approached, his arms pulled behind his back.

"You know you don't have to be here," he stated. "Your father called in and we have granted permission for your absence."

"I get that but I don't want to be absent," Melanie replied. "All I'd be doing is sit around and listen to machines beeping all day and mess with the bed pans and eat crap food that's rivals the cafeteria—no offense."

"Ms. Crowe—"

"I don't understand why people don't get that I _want_ to be here. I don't want to be at a hospital. I don't…I don't want to sit around and stare at my mom. I want to be _here_." She jabbed the armrest of her chair with her finger.

The principal nodded his head once. "Okay," he said. "But if you need anything…or want to talk…Ms. Morrell has offered up her services. I'm sure you two will find that you have a few things in common."

"Ah, yeah, we wear that French-Canadian badge with pride. You know, the only way we figure out if someone belongs to the club is if they respond to moose mating noises. But _ssssh!_ Don't let anyone else in on that secret." She stood and lifted her bag over her shoulder. She took one step only to pause and rock back and forth on her heels. "Thanks," she muttered and left the office.

"You okay?" Erica asked from the floor. She got to her feet and brushed her hands against the seat of her pants. Her bag hung off her shoulder, pulling against the neck of her large sweater to reveal a shoulder. Some of her messy hair had fallen out of her ponytail.

"Yeah, I'm good," Melanie replied, looping her arm with Erica's as they walked down the hall. "Though I did forget to do History homework so could I copy yours before class?"

"Sure," Erica replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Too much Valentine's festivities?"

"I'd ask you that same question but I already know the answer to it, Dragonbreath," Melanie replied. Erica's cheeks flushed pink. "No, I just hung out with Allison and Lydia. Well, more Allison than Lydia. Lydia spent more time flip-flopping over whether or not Jackson is a jerk or not for not getting her flowers—the jury's still out, apparently—so Allison and I just went through her closet."

"Oh, I bet it's like a dream," Erica sighed.

"She has _killer_ shoes. The girl has taste, can't deny that. In shoes, anyway. Not so much boyfriends. Jackson is a slimeball."

"And yet, somehow, I can still live with myself," Jackson commented. Melanie wheeled herself and Erica around to see Jackson leaning against a set of lockers behind them. Her eyebrows furrowed. He looked much healthier than he had in ages. His skin wasn't sallow, he wasn't sweaty profusely, and his eyes weren't sunken or rimmed with dark circles. He had his old swagger back if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

"Some life to live," she countered. "Didn't you have a doctor's appointment this morning? How'd it go?"

"Fine, _Mom_," Jackson replied, rolling his eyes.

"Forgive me for checking if my teammate is fit to play in the most important game tomorrow is overstepping my boundaries."

"You don't step over boundaries, you jump over them," he countered, briefly pressing more weight against the lockers to stand up straight.

"Did you need something?"

"Yeah. Your mom owns that flower shop. I assume that means she actually knows something about flowers." Melanie grunted. She could feel Erica tense by her side. Melanie grasped Erica's inner forearm and gave it a squeeze. Whatever Jackson wanted she could handle it, putdowns and all. "I also assume you know something, as surprising as that is, and considering your mother put herself in a hospital—"

"Is there a point to this?" Melanie cut him off, her voice sharp. Her mouth twisted to the side almost immediately and she glanced over at Erica to see her staring at her. "I have to get to class," she added, her voice softer than it was before.

"Do you know anything about a flower called Aconite?" He asked.

She blinked. "Yes and no. There's no flower just called 'aconite'. There is Aconitum though. And beneath that there are a few different species of that genus. It's pretty poisonous. And by pretty I mean very. You can die from just touching it in some cases. Don't even think about ingesting it. Even animals know to stay away from that stuff, and that's telling you something."

Jackson's face slowly shifted, his eyebrows drooping and his muscles contracting as if his face were melting. Finally he held up his hand, gave his head a little shake and huffed. "Geeze, Crowe, I didn't need a dictionary regurgitation." Her eyes turned to the ceiling, as if silently asking anyone above why they were testing her. "Are there any other names for that flower?"

"A couple. Monkshood, Devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons, Blue Rocket, Women's bane, Mouse bane, Leopard's bane, or, more commonly—"

"Wolfsbane," Jackson filled in for her.

"Yep." She nodded. "But if you get anywhere near it, I suggest you run away from it. The affects of wolfsbane are almost immediate: vomiting, diarrhea, burning, tingling and numbing sensations in the mouth, face, and then the abdomen."

"You say that like you're talking about the weather," Erica commented which made Melanie shrug.

"It's just the facts."

"Hmm," Jackson muttered, pausing to look the black haired girl up and down, "seems you're useful after all." He licked his lower lip, turned and walked away with a new pep in his step. Melanie's nose wrinkled at the entire weird exchanged but then she brushed it off. It was Jackson; after all, she didn't trust him to hold that much trivia in his head. Not when it seemed to be filled with his ever-ready list of insults.

Erica sighed. "I don't get why you're being so nice to him when he's being awful to you," she said as they continued walking down the hall in the opposite direction.

"I have to see him every day after school. It's better to be civil than outright hate him when I need him to cover my back when we're on the field. This way he won't stab it." Her words ended with a soft sigh as her eyes flittered from side to side, catching those whispering and pointing in her direction. "So, that history homework?"

"It wasn't too bad. We just have to do short answers about some of the key figures we've been reading about."

"How'd you manage to get any homework done with your parents' plans?" Melanie looked up when Erica didn't answer. "You know, you never told me what made your whole night end up crashing and burning. I mean, I know your dad's a bit of a challenge but—"

"I, actually, don't want to talk about it," Erica interrupted, clearing her throat. "My dad was just my dad, that's all."

"Yeah, but you've dealt with your dad before. What could be so bad that—"

"Mellie, if you don't want to talk about your mom I don't want to talk about my dad. Okay?"

Unlooping their arms, Melanie held up her hands to block the bite in Erica's words. "Fine, we won't talk about that. How about you kissing me?"

"That either."

"I'm not complaining about it, Eri! Do you see me stomping about? I'll take a kiss anywhere I can get it but—"

Erica scratched at her hairline, shielding her face. "It happened and now it's done with it. That's all." She dropped her hand and then her head tilted at something down the hall. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"_That!_"

Melanie followed Erica's pointing finger to her locker. Melanie mimicked Erica's head tilt, staring at the object as she approached. Once she was close enough she found that it was a flower attached to her locker door. A white rose. She grasped the magnet that was attached to the flower, pulling it off the metal surface. Spinning the flower around, she gave it a sniff and then smiled at the distinct scent.

"Who's it from?" Erica asked. "Your dad?"

"I doubt it; he would've given me a bouquet not just one. Besides, he didn't want me here today." She spun the dial on her lock a few times until it popped open with a click. She set the flower down and picked up the paper sitting on the top shelf. She carefully unfolded it and bit on her thumb while reading over it:

_Mel,_

_My mom told me about what happened. I'm sorry to hear. She says she'll do whatever she can to give your mom all the help she needs. She always says you can come to her to talk if you need anything or if you have any questions you want answered. You can talk to me, too. And if you ever need a hug, my mom says I give the best in the world. But you can be the judge of that. I hope this helps cheer you up a little bit. I like seeing you smile._

_-Scott_

"Scott," Melanie whispered. She smiled and held the note to her chest, her fingers pressing into the paper as if in an effort to soak up his words. She rubbed her thumbs against the paper and then put it back into her locker and then reached for her notebook.

"Well? Who's it from?" Erica asked, nudging her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Melanie hummed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and said as nonchalantly as possible, "Oh, just Scott."

"'Just Scott', huh?" Erica repeated while making finger quotes around the words. "So why're you smiling like that if it's 'just Scott'?"

"It was just nice of him, that's all. Homework?" She held out her palm. Erica dug into her bag and pulled out her homework. Melanie took it and sat down on the floor, flipping open both notebooks. Erica slid down to the ground next to her, loosely wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What about Allison?"

"They broke up."

"Still. I've seen the way he looks at her." A sad smile formed on her face. "It's the look I've always dreamt of someone having on their face as they look at me."

"I'll look at you any way you want me to, Eri," Melanie muttered, her nose pressed close to the lined paper she was writing on. "Besides, they have no claim on one another. Anyone can ask the other out if they want to."

"Sure, but you'd come out looking like a stealer." She chuckled. "That must be some rush, huh? Having that power, having that _control_…"

Melanie stopped writing, tapping the tip of her pen into the paper. "Yeah, well, control's all good until you lose it."

Making a coo-like noise of sympathy, Erica reached out and caressed Melanie's hair. Melanie turned to the side and rested her head on Erica's shoulder. Erica, in turn, rested her head atop of Melanie's. The other students would briefly pause to look at them, maybe whisper, and then walk on their way.

The only one to come to a complete stop was Isaac. With his hands shoved into his pockets and his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulder, he stood above them, head tilted as he surveyed the scene. With a drop of his shoulder, his bag slid down his arm until it landed on the ground, where he soon followed. Once he was comfortable sitting on the ground he then leaned over and rested his head on Melanie's shoulder. She wiggled her arm between his neck and his locker and draped it around his shoulders. And there they sat, entwined in the middle of the hallway, staying still as the bell rang overhead.

**_# # #_**

"What do you _mean_ I can't practice? Coach, the game's _tomorrow! _I have to be there!" Melanie cried out. Maybe if she reasoned the stakes of the big game with him he'd change his mind. After all, he wanted to win as much as if not more than they did. He's been changing up positions for the past week to see which lineup was stronger than the other. Surely he'd see that it would be best to have everyone prepared just in case someone was to get injured.

"I don't want you crying all over the field, Crowe," Coach Finstock replied, barely looking up from his playbook.

"Wha…? I…Coach! C'mon, this isn't fair! I want to play!"

"And I want Greenberg to stop calling me in the middle of the night. We can't all get what we want. Except me. I can block his number. Found that out a bit too late. Blew up my answering machine, the weirdo. He really needs a girlfriend."

"As true as that statement is," Melanie said, holding up her hand to stop him from continuing, "that doesn't change the fact that I want to be at practice today."

"Look, kid. You wanted to be on my team and now you are. Maybe you can go out there and run people over right now. You could also end up in a puddle of tears being run over by everyone else." He closed his playbook with a snap. "You don't belong here today. Just go home."

Melanie didn't miss the finality in his voice or in the closing of his playbook. She rolled her lacrosse stick in her hands, watching as he got up from behind his desk and walked past her. Behind her, the sound of boys' laughter and slamming lockers went off like gunshots, each bullet hitting her right in the chest. Clenching her jaw, she threw her lacrosse stick to the ground and stomped out of the office.

Her rapid footsteps bounced off the lockers in the quiet hallway as she stalked towards the exit. Her breathing was heavy, her chest heaved, and her fingers clenched and unclenched by her side. She slammed a fist against a nearby locker and rested her forehead against it, blowing out a long breath. Maybe going home was the best idea. Maybe she should have stayed away from school today. With all the whispers and the pointing and people telling her how to react, hiding under the covers probably would have been the best option. At least that way she could curl up with her dog.

"Melanie?" Allison approached, holding her iPod between her hands. Her hair was piled atop of her head in a messy bun and she was decked out in black workout gear. "Is…is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied, rubbing her face. "Just wishing I could go back in time and not wake up this morning, that's all."

"No practice? The game's tomorrow, right?"

"Coach…he gave me the afternoon off. That's all." She looked Allison up and down. "Where were you headed?" _And how the hell do you look good in everything you wear?_

"Oh, I was just going to go for a run." She rocked back and forth on her heels, playing with her fingers. "D'you maybe…want to come?"

"Sure. May as well get some use out of my practice clothes. Just let me change my shoes."

Allison placed her hands on her waist and bent to the side in a stretch. "Take your time."

Melanie jogged to her locker so as not to keep Allison waiting and changed from her cleats into her gym shoes. It was a good thing Coach drilled into them that they should have both shoes on hand just in case a change in weather made them move indoors for practice. She checked her phone, made a mental note to text Erica back, and switched out her shoes before tossing her bag and phone in and locking the locker door.

"Do you mind if I…?" Allison asked, waving her iPod around.

"Go ahead. It's your run, I'm just joining you."

She nodded, smiled a little, and with a tilt of her head motioned for them to get going. They pushed past the double doors and descended the front stairs. Melanie followed behind Allison, not knowing which direction she was going to run to. Allison made a beeline for the line of trees at the end of the school parking lot. Melanie stopped walking, feeling a heavy thud in the pit of her stomach.

"You want to run in there?" she asked.

Allison stopped and turned around. "Yeah, I always go running in the woods," she replied. "Fresh air, nature, no distractions. There are a lot of paths." Her pouty lips turned down in concern. "Why, is something wrong?"

Melanie crossed her arms. Somewhere, deep in there was the Hale house. What if Derek was still there? What if they ran into him in the woods? What if Allison ran back and told her father about him and then what would happen to him? To Scott? To her and Stiles for helping them? She licked her lips. It was a long shot that Allison would stumble upon it herself, so maybe there was nothing to worry about…

"No," Melanie finally replied. "Just checking. And it's better to go running in here. Less of a chance of getting run over."

"Right." Allison blinked, her eyebrows crinkling, and then she shook her head and they resumed walking. They were quiet as they broke through the tree line and began walking deeper into the woods, their shoes crunching against twigs and leaves beneath their feet. "Melanie?"

Melanie looked up from her feet. "Yeah?"

"Do you think about that night?" Allison kept her head and her stare forward as they walked. "The night of the attack?"

"All the time," Melanie admitted. She bit her lower lip. "It's-it's hard for me to sleep, sometimes. I just…go back to that night. And when I _do_ get to sleep I keep dreaming that…that _thing_ got inside and…" her words died out as her eyes darted around, looking for Alpha eyes. She squinted, peering through some trees. She heard a rustle. Her heart jumped into her throat. A squirrel burst out of the underbrush and ran up a tree. Melanie rubbed at her forehead with her palm. If a squirrel was getting to her, being out in the woods probably wasn't the best idea—

"I can't stop thinking about it, wondering why he wanted to kill us all," Allison spoke up. "We're just…kids. We didn't do anything. Yet he made sure we were all together at the school. All of us. He wanted us…but why?" She pressed her lips together until they formed a thin line. "And we couldn't even do anything about it…We just had to wait to…to _die_." Melanie flinched at the harsh word. "Waiting to die…some way to go, huh? At least give me a chance to fight back…to fight for my life. To fight for—"

"Your right to party?" Melanie suggested. Her small smile at her own joke died when Allison gave her an incredulous look. "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Well, hey…you're here now. It's better to live for the future than stay in the past, right?"

"Maybe," Allison muttered. She then tilted her head and stuck her ear buds into her ears. "Come on, let's get going." Once the other ear bud was in she shifted her weight and started to jog. Melanie looked around again and then followed after her.

Her breathing soon became as steady as her running pace, which had to be altered slightly to keep up with Allison's longer legs. Sweat dotted her hairline and made her shirt stick to her back. Her feet thudded against the dirt and her ponytail bounced from side to side with each step. The trees swayed overhead, shifting the shafts of sunlight that streaked in through the dead leaves that still clung to the tree branches. A light wind caressed her sweat-slicked skin, making gooseflesh arise on her arms.

Or maybe it was from seeing the Hale house in the distance.

Allison had stopped running, her head inclined as she looked at the building. Melanie stopped behind her, her chest heaving as she panted, her heart thudding in her chest. "Al, let's go," she said, keeping her eyes on the burned down house.

"Wait, I want to get a closer look," Allison replied, waving her away.

"It's not safe," she pressed.

"It won't take long."

Melanie huffed out a breath and followed Allison up the sloping hill to the burnt out shell of a home. Her eyes moved from side to side, her muscles tensed in her back and shoulders and her hair stood up on the back of her neck. Allison approached the house and skipped a few steps on the front porch. She paused in front of the door and then pushed it open. It emitted a low, elongated creak. Allison walked in but Melanie stopped by the door, looking at the scratch marks in the paint.

Had that been there before?

She entered the house to see Allison had ventured into the room that she had woken up in only a few days ago. Walking further into the house, she looked around only to stop by the couch. She remembered the scratchy fabric on her cheek, the smell of wet, old wood, the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet, the feeling of being watched…

Allison's scream made a scream rip from Melanie's throat. She whirled around to see a woman grimacing by the doorway. Hand on her chest, Melanie could only stare at the woman who made a comment about Allison's lungs.

"Did you follow me here?" Allison asked.

"Well, you can't blame me for being concerned about my favorite niece, now, can you?" the woman replied.

"I knew there was someone following us!" Melanie cried out, snapping her fingers.

"Then why didn't you say anything" Allison demanded.

"I didn't want to freak you out….although, it's a little late for that, I guess."

The woman looked over at Melanie and smiled. "I wondered if you saw me. You looked right in my direction sometimes." Her smile then stretched a little more as she pointed and said, "Hey wait, I remember you. You're the girl from the flower shop."

"Right," Melanie replied. She swallowed. Her tongue briefly got stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. "So you must be…?"

"Allison's aunt. I'm Kate," she replied. Melanie had to strain to keep herself from instinctively going for her phone. If she was Allison's aunt...that must mean… Smile still stuck to her face, Kate looked between the two girls. "What were you looking for?"

"I don't know - Something. Anything," Allison replied.

"You mean answers…to lingering questions like—"

"Why he would want to kill us."

"I mean, that doesn't really matter, right?" Melanie cut in. "We're alive. He's gone. We don't have to worry about him anymore. We have more police around the school. We look like a penitentiary. Not that school wasn't like that before, am I right?" Even she almost cringed at how awful her nervous laughter sounded.

Kate ignored her as she stepped further into the room. Allison stood and brushed her hands together to rub off dirt. "Could you imagine if your father and I were trapped in something like this? It might do some pretty interesting things to your head, don't you think?"

"It wouldn't turn me into a psychotic killer," Allison shot back.

"You don't have to be psychotic to be a killer. You just, ah, need a reason. And even then, sometimes…you can surprise yourself."

Melanie ran her fingers through her hair. They had to get out, now. If Kate was anything like Allison's dad then they were both in trouble. "Hey, it's getting late. Maybe we should head back," she spoke up.

"Oh, I can help you guys back," Kate said with a smile. "Can't have you wandering around by yourselves, can we? Don't know what you might stumble upon?"

"A bee's nest?" Melanie suggested.

Kate chuckled and shifted her attention back to her niece. "What do you want, Allison?"

"I want to not be scared. That night in the school, I felt utterly weak. Like - like I needed somebody to come in and rescue me. I hate that feeling. I want to feel stronger than that. I want to feel powerful."

"Allison, if you can give me just a little bit of time—be just a little patient—I think I can give you exactly what you want," Kate vowed, circling her daughter like a lion stalking its prey. "What about you?" She added, lifting her chin in Melanie's direction. "All girls want to feel powerful, don't they? Want to feel that they have the world in their hands; that they can make their own decisions; that they can _survive_." She reached out and placed a hand on Melanie's shoulder. "I can help you do that. What do you say?"

**_# # #_**

Nova greeted Melanie by running around and nipping at her feet when she returned home that night. She made sure the door was closed and locked behind her as she entered the quiet and still house. She hesitated by the door. On any other day her mother would be in the kitchen humming along to the soft rock song that was playing on the radio as she cooked, the wafting aromas would assault her by the door. But it wasn't any other day. There was no humming, no music, and no food cooking.

"Come on, boy, I'll get you some food," Melanie said, reaching down to pet between the dog's ears. He trotted behind Melanie as she navigated through the house, flicking on lights as she went. Finally she reached the kitchen. Dropping her keys on a nearby counter, she picked up Nova's bowl and went to the pantry to get his food. She filled his bowl and then set it down for him to eat. Grabbing an apple out of a bowl, she turned around only to yelp and throw the piece of fruit when she spotted her father sitting at the kitchen table.

"Geeze, Dad! Don't do that!" Melanie cried out.

"If your first plan of attack is to throw an apple at an intruder, you might want to rethink your plan," he replied. She knew it was supposed to be a joke but it fell flat. Bangs hung under his eyes, his hair was unkempt, wrinkles sat in his clothes, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his eyes were dull. It hurt her heart to see him like this. "Why didn't you come?" he rasped.

Melanie looked at her feet, lifting her bag higher up her shoulder. "I had to be at practice. The game's tomorrow."

"I'm sure they would have understood if you opted not to go," Laurence said.

"I want to play, Dad."

"I understand that, but in this situation it's not the best idea." He set the apple down and rubbed at his eyes. "You should have been with us."

"Mom's still going to be there. I could see her after the game," she grumbled, turning to leave.

"This isn't something small, Ladybug, something is wrong with your mother," Laurence stated. His words stopped her in her tracks. She twisted her mouth to the side. Her heart rate increased. The sound of Nova's dog tags hitting against his bowl as he ate broke the silence that fell between them. Melanie felt her chest tighten.

"She was fine yesterday," Melanie whispered.

"…She hasn't been fine for a long time," Laurence replied. "Not since we lost Aiden." His lips shook in the corners and he took in a deep breath, only for it to come out shaky once he breathed out. "I tried everything I could to help her. I gave her space when she needed it, I was a to cry on my shoulder when she needed it, and I was there when she needed it. I helped her as much as I could…but she didn't want the help. She just…got lost…until she couldn't take it anymore and tried to find a way out."

"Dad, I have homework," Melanie uttered, trying to move past him.

He grasped her shoulders. Unshed tears lined his bottom lids. "Sweetie, your mother tried to kill herself last night."

"I have _homework_," she repeated, trying to get out of his tight grasp. "Dad, let go!"

"Melanie, we have to talk about this."

She wrenched herself away from him, grabbing her bag before it fell to the ground. "I have an important game tomorrow and I have homework to try and finish." _And an Alpha werewolf to try and take down._ "I'll see you later."

She turned and ran for the stairs before her father could stop her. She skipped a couple to get up faster and once she was safe in her room, behind a closed door, she threw her bag down onto her bed, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. She clutched the pillow even as it felt stuffy around her face and her throat hurt and she had a hard time breathing.

Only when the material of the pillow began to make her face itch did she pull away. The cool air in the room was heaven to her hot face. Running her fingers through her hair, she pushed it off her forehead and dropped down on her bed. Down below she could hear her father's footsteps as he moved through the empty kitchen. She grabbed her backpack and yanked open the zipper, reaching inside for her school books. Instead she pulled out the flower and note that Scott had put in her locker.

_Scott…_

Yanking her phone out of the mesh pocket on the side of her bag, she selected Scott's name on her contacts list and held her phone up to her ear, biting on her thumb as she waited for him to answer. The loud buzzing on the other end made her bite her thumb harder. _C'mon, c'mon, pick up!_ On the second to last buzz he finally answered and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't hurt.

"Hey Scott. No, nothing's wrong. Yeah, I'm fine, I promise. I just need to tell you something important. It's about…" The words were so simple. It's about Allison. That's all she had to say and then he could get a leg up on Allison's aunt and father and any other hunters that might be around. But she looked down at the flower in her lap again. She touched the soft petals of the white rose and felt her mouth pull back on one side in a half smile. "…Thanks…for the flower. I really needed it."

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><p><em><strong> an**_ - And here's another update! Thanks to everyone who fav'd and alerted and reviewed so far, I really appreciate the support! So what did you think of this chapter? Liked it? Disliked it? I hope the wait wasn't too long for you guys.

Who's excited for Season 5 coming up? I can't wait to see what Scott and his pack get up to this year. Is anyone else hoping that we'll see Jackson come back now that Colton isn't a regular on Arrow anymore? (I mean, I love him in Arrow but I wouldn't mind seeing Jackson return.)

Please read and review!

~C.M.


	19. Re-Lax

**_a/n - I usually put these at the end but I just wanted to say a quick Happy Independence Day to you all! I hope you like this chapter, I had so much fun writing it. Please read and review and let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcomed!_**

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 19: Re-Lax<br>_**

Game day was finally here! Melanie woke that morning with a large smile on her face at the realization. It was finally _here!_ Maybe she'd even get a chance to play! If she was lucky. But even if she didn't she was content with sitting on the sidelines and cheering Scott and Stiles on. She would even start the wave in their honor.

She kicked back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The movement caused Nova's head to pop up from his curled up position on his bed. He stood, stretched out and then padded over to her, licking at her ankle.

"Breakfast is coming right up, Nova," she said, her words thick due to the yawn that momentarily took over her body. She reached down and scratched between his ears and stood. She stretched her arms above her head and followed the puppy out of the room and to the stairs, chuckling when he nervously paced in front of them. "Okay, this weekend we're going to learn how to go up and down stairs," she told him. She scooped him up in her arms and carried him downstairs. Once they were on the bottom floor she set him down and he scampered off, stopping every now and then to check if she was still behind him. "Dad! What's for breakfast?" she called out.

She got silence as a response. Frowning, she walked into the kitchen and straight up to the fridge. As she suspected an old junk mail envelope that had been written on was attached to the refrigerator with a large puzzle-piece shaped magnet. She pulled it off and read over his note, shaking her head. She crumpled it up in her hand and threw it into the nearby trashcan and then went to the pantry for dog food. She dragged out the bag and poured it into Nova's bowl. His tail whipped from side to side in his excitement and when she lifted the bag he dove headfirst into the bowl.

"Hey, slow down. You don't wanna choke," she told him. She put the bag back into the pantry and had started to open the refrigerator when the doorbell rang. Picking up an apple instead, she jogged to the front door and opened it only to be greeted by the sight of many balloons.

"Um…why are there balloons with legs on my doorstep? …Wearing amazing heeled boots. Actually, I want those," she commented, looking down at the black boots.

"Too bad we don't have the same shoe size," Erica said, popping her head between the multicolored balloons that floated in the air around her. "Surprise!" She tried to walk in through the front door but the balloons inhibited her. After a brief struggle, which Melanie watched while snickering, Erica finally gave up and extended her arm, holding out a small wrapped box.

"What's this?" Melanie asked, taking it.

"Open it and see," Erica replied. Melanie backed away, allowing Erica more space to try and maneuver her way inside with the balloons.

Melanie shook the box, hearing something tumble around inside. Breaking the tape seal on the box with her thumbnail, she popped open the top and cooed "Awwww!" once she saw the necklace inside. Hanging on a simple silver chain was a small silver lacrosse stick. Nestled in the net was a silver ball with the number 16 etched into it. "This must have cost your entire allowance," she said, ducking her head to put the necklace on.

"My mom helped," Erica grunted. "Said she didn't want you feeling—"

"Alone?" Melanie filled in. "Kinda can't help that my mom got herself placed in the hospital and my dad wants to be at her bedside every waking moment. Romantic, in a sense if you think about it. Kinda selfish to some but, romantic nonetheless. The one time they stop fighting is when there's a chance that the other won't be around to fight with. Funny how that works." She twisted her mouth to the side and then changed the subject. "Don't get me wrong, I like the fanfare but the balloons are a bit much," she remarked, pulling the balloons into her house. She was thankful that they were attached to a weight otherwise she wouldn't be able to play with them later.

"Nonsense! Today's the big game! I don't really get lacrosse but it's important to you so…it's important to me too," Erica replied. She licked her lips and shoved her hands into the front pockets of her short coveralls.

Melanie smiled, a bright red flush settling in her cheeks. It was official; she had the best friend in the world. Resting her palms against the door frame she said, "By that logic, you're important to me…question is, are you important to yourself?"

Erica paused. Melanie could tell she hadn't expected that question with the way her eyelashes fluttered and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. But if Erica was going to continue to lavish so much attention and support on her, she was only going to turn it right back around. Erica tucked a wavy strand of hair behind her ear and kicked at the porch beneath her feet. "Not yet." Lifting her eyes up from the ground she added with a half smile, "But I'm trying to be."

Melanie clicked her tongue and then made a sweeping gesture with her arm. "Good enough. We accept that password. You may enter."

Erica made a show of taking a large step inside and closed the door behind her. "Breakfast burrito?" She dug into her bag and then pulled out the foil-wrapped food.

"Thanks."

"My mom made it," she continued, loosely crossing her arms. "Wanted to make sure you had enough to eat this morning."

"Tell her thanks." Melanie took a bite and held it out to Erica who waved it away and said she already ate. Shrugging, she took another bite and walked back to the kitchen. "Don't I usually drive you? Did you mom suddenly get you a car or something?"

"I asked her to drop me off. She has a couple surgeries today and I didn't want her worrying about me getting up." Melanie nodded, taking that excuse. She knew it wasn't the truth but she accepted it anyway. After all, in the last few months she could drive Erica had no reason to meet her at her house. "You okay?" _Ah, there it was._

"Yeah, totally. In fact I'm amped, I'm jazzed, I'm pumped. This day couldn't move any faster. I want it to be the game already. I'm stoked!" She swallowed the chewed up burrito and set it aside on the island. "Did you make that?"She lifted her chin at Erica.

She looked down, as if forgetting what she had been wearing. "Oh. Yeah. Last night. I just took some of my old shirts, cut them up, and then sewed them onto this. Do you like it?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll support anything that denotes you as being my number one fan," Melanie replied, smiling at the DIY tee. "In fact I want them mass manufactured. I want everyone to know you're _my_ number one fan and mine alone."

"Yeah, well, I don't think I want to wave that flag while you're wearing that," Erica said, pointing to her friend's clothes. "You're not wearing that to school, are you?"

"It's not Spirit Week so as far as I know Pajama Day hasn't come around again yet."

She clasped her hands together. "Can I pick something out for you? Please?"

Melanie waved her hand as if to say "Have at it." Squealing in delight, Erica bounced on her toes and then ran upstairs, declaring that she'll pick something good.

Melanie didn't doubt her. Her closet was filled with clothes that would look great on her, if she ever got up the courage to wear them. Listening to Erica's footsteps overhead, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and quickly composed and sent a text to her dad:

_Are you coming to the game tonight?_

Once sent she set her phone down and continued eating. Nova had finished eating long ago and lay on the floor in the corner, already fast asleep. She wished her life were as easy as Nova's sometimes. She drummed her fingers on the island as she waited, pausing every now and then to lift the burrito to her mouth to take a bite. Soon she had finished eating it and checked her phone again. No answer. She huffed.

"Okay, I have two options just in case you don't like what I chose," Erica announced as she came down the stairs. Two hangers hung off her fingers and swayed to and fro as she entered the kitchen. "Option one or option two? Now I know it's a little bit nicer than what you wear for school but it's an important day and if people are going to be looking at you, you may as well look good. First impressions are key."

"I think I ruined my first impression when I managed to take out the entire marching band due to an ill-fated cartwheel last year during my short-lived career as the mascot," Melanie pointed out. She pushed her cell phone between her hands and it glided across the shiny countertop. She glanced up, her eyes shifting from side to side and added, "But I like option two. Let me get changed and then we can head out."

Amidst Erica's squeals of delight, Melanie checked her phone again. It remained blank. She put it down on the counter and took a hanger out of Erica's hand. She jogged up the stairs and closed her bedroom door behind her with her foot. She tossed the clothes onto her bed and picked up her lacrosse jersey that lay at the foot in a heap. She held it up, her fingers digging into the porous fabric. Her thumbs rubbed over the edges of the large 16 nestled on the back. Balling it up, she shoved it into her lacrosse bag and changed into the hooded romper and cardigan that Erica had laid out for her.

She grabbed her bag, shoved her feet into the first shoes she spotted, and ran down the stairs as best as she could; leaning to the side to be sure that she didn't miss a step. "Okay, let's roll out!" she announced, grabbing her keys off the table. "Eri, can you put Nova in his kennel? Oh, and hand me my phone please. Am I forgetting anything?"

"Yeah: _breathe_," Erica replied. She brushed stray dog hair off of her clothes and then picked up Melanie's cell phone.

"Good advice. Remind me to do that every five seconds." Once Erica slapped her phone in her palm she flipped it and pressed a button on the side to see if she had received an answer yet. Still nothing. Huffing, she swiped the screen with her thumb and typed out a message:

_Well, if you can't come to the game at least check on Nova during your lunch break please._

She shoved her phone into her pocket and her eyes roamed over to the balloons by the front door. Her head tilted and she hummed. "Hey Eri, mind if I take one of these balloons with me?" At the way Erica's eyebrows furrowed she continued, "I think someone else could use a little bit of support." With Erica's nod of approval she grabbed a balloon and then led Erica out the front door, locking it behind her. Once at her truck she threw her bag into the bag and jumped into the driver's seat. She jammed her keys into the ignition and turned it, barely having pulled her seatbelt across her chest when trumpets began pouring out of the speakers. She fought hard to keep from smiling but she lost that battle when she saw the sheepish way Erica was smiling at her. Cranking up the volume, she buckled herself in, backed out of the driveway, and drove them to Beacon Hills High all the while singing along to Omi's "Cheerleader".

**_# # #_**

The energy levels in the halls of Beacon Hills High rivaled that of Spirit Week. The game wasn't until seven that night but people were still running up and down the halls, barking at one another and shouting their support for the Cyclones whenever a faction of the lacrosse team walked by. The words of encouragement and advocacy melted into taunts and jeers that buzzed around Melanie's head and in her ears and no matter how many times she tried to swat them away they dodged her attack and stung.

She rolled her neck when she felt the familiar tap of a Hershey kiss on the back of her head. Her fingers drummed against the lockers on either side of her as thick, hearty laughter sounded behind her. Her chest heaved with the heavy breaths. She gritted her teeth, a muscle jumping in her jaw. Her eyes crinkled in the corners from how hard she squeezed them and colors burst in the darkness of her shut eyes. Bright colors, shades so vivid they glowed and shimmied and shook and _hurt_.

"Mel! Are you okay?" Her shoulder jerked at the clamping weight of Scott's hand. She opened her eyes and looked around. For a brief moment the colors in the hall were bright, as if someone had turned up the saturation but she blinked and it had gone back to normal. She let out a breath and looked up at Scott and Stiles who wore identical expressions of concern. "Your heart was beating like crazy."

"I…yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "Saw a spider." She gave her head a shake, ridding her mind of the images as if it were an Etch-a-Sketch. "Did you find the necklace?"

"No. I checked her locker, her bags; nothing," Scott responded. He bit his lower lip and declared, "I think I'm going to have to check her house."

Melanie held up her hand and shook her head. Maybe she hadn't heard him right. "Wait. You want to just break into her house?" Her eyebrow popped at the end of her incredulous statement. "Sorry, Scott, but that's ten levels of creepy."

"Hey, it's the only chance we got," Stiles said. "Derek's nowhere to be seen, not that I'd jump to him for help—"

"Not that we can, with you two putting him on the run."

Stiles waved his hand. "Details. Anyway, the necklace is all we got right now. And now that Jackson knows—"

"Hold the phone!" Melanie waved her arms as if calling for a timeout. "What do you mean, Jackson knows? He knows _what?_ How to finally tie his shoes? How to walk and chew gum at the same time? How to pat his head and rub his tummy?" It was clear what Stiles was getting at but maybe…maybe it was something else. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with werewolves at all. Maybe. Hopefully. Her bottom lip certainly hoped so, with how hard she was biting.

"Jackson knows about Scott being…of the hairy variety," Stiles continued.

She gulped. Scott's eyebrows twitched. She almost forgot that his hearing was heightened as well. "How'd he find out?" She asked, twisting her fingers together. She could feel a bead of sweat rolling down behind her ear.

"We have no idea," Scott replied, running a hand through his hair. "But either way we need to work fast. Get a cure or an answer or…or _something_. Before he does something stupid like looking for the Alpha."

If the haunting eyes she saw everywhere were of any indication, the Alpha would probably find him first. She rubbed her palms together. Surely he didn't figure it out because of _her_. Right? He just asked her a harmless question. A harmless flower question. People did that all the time. Asked her about flowers. Because she knew about them. Because her mother was a florist, she owned the shop. So of course she would know about them. Was it getting hot? Melanie tugged at the collar of her shirt, wishing that Scott and Stiles would stop looking at her like she grew a second head.

"Okay! Okay! It was me!" She finally burst out, much to Scott's and Stiles's bewilderment. "He asked me about wolfsbane yesterday and I told him but I didn't think he was actually being smart about something; I thought it was just a harmless question! I'm sorry! Just stop…_looking_ at me!" Her next few breaths were rapid and short. "I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking. It-it was a flower question. People ask me questions about flowers all the time; it just…went over my head. Although I _should_ have been worried, I mean who asks about wolfsbane of all flowers, right? Sunflowers, maybe. Daisies, Lilies, Poinsettias, Chrysanthemums, all flowers that make sense! Wolfsbane should have jumped out at me but with all the stuff that's going I just – I didn't think about it. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, Scott. I really am. Please don't be mad at me."

Her rapid breathing stopped all together when he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her so tight she swore she could feel her bones creak but she chalked it up to his enhanced strength. She hadn't realized that tears had gathered in her eyes until she saw a few dark splotches growing on the front of his shirt. She sniffed, reliving the pressure at the back of her nose, and let out a hot breath as she hugged him back.

"I'm not mad at you," he stated, holding her at arm's length and looking down at her. "I mean, he had to have figured out about wolfsbane from somewhere else in the first place, right? And it was kinda smart of him to ask you about it." He rubbed her arms and she fanned her warm face. "You didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourself. We'll just…figure something out. Okay?"

"Yeah, like putting wolfsbane in his water bottle," Stiles suggested. "Shut him right up."

"You know I can't actually get any, right?" Melanie asked, brushing her eyes with her sleeve but even then she couldn't help but chuckle at his suggestion.

"We have werewolves and hunters running around and it's hard for _us_ to get wolfsbane? Unbelievable," Stiles muttered, running a hand through his short hair.

"I know, it's a travesty." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "So is that all we can do right now? Get the necklace and hope the Alpha doesn't attack anyone else?"

"Hmm, no, I have an idea but it's going to take some time." Stiles's finger was pressed against his mouth as he spoke. "All we can do right now is lay low and act natural. Pretend we don't know anything. …Which I guess is the same thing for you, Mels." She shot a withering glare his way. He shrugged and a good-natured smile flittered across his lips. "Just kidding. But Jackson won't pump you for information if you…_embellish_ things. So you're safe."

She nodded. Scott's hand dropped from her arm to her hand and he gave it a squeeze. "Everything will be okay. I promise," he said firmly. He briefly twisted his mouth to the side and then added in a softer tone, "And my mom says you can come over for dinner any time you want."

Her face burned again and she squeezed his hand back. She stood on her tiptoes, rocking forward slightly to kiss his cheek. Once back on her feet she whispered, "Thank you. I appreciate it." He nodded and lightly tapped Stiles on the arm to motion them away. Stiles held up a finger and Scott took the hint, walking off, dragging his fingers out of Melanie's hand in the process. Her fingers closed in the empty space as she looked after him. _Probably going to find Allison_. Her nose wrinkled. Why did her brain have to go there? Turn a good moment into one that made her stomach clench? Why did she torture herself? "What's up?" she asked, turning her attention to Stiles.

He dragged his tongue across his lower lip. She crossed her arms while she waited. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Isaac down the hall. She turned her head to watch him. His long fingers spun the face-plate on his lock this way and that. He pulled on it and the lock popped open with ease. He removed it, pulled on the lever to his locker door, and stood back only to get a balloon to the face. Melanie smiled at his confusion and then looked back at Stiles. The peculiar expression on his face made her smile disappear. "What?" she prompted.

He pressed his palms together, resting the side to his mouth, and then said, "I know you're angry…and upset and confused. But take it from me—from someone who _knows_—she may be fine now but she may not always be around."

"Stiles…I know what you're saying but…our positions aren't the same," Melanie pointed out, her voice hitching at the end. She kicked at the ground. She had to reel herself in much better than that.

"No, they're not," he agreed. His voice was so stern it made her jolt and her stomach lurch. "Because, unlike you, I could only sit by and watch as a disease took my mom. I knew she wasn't going to make it. And you..." his words trailed off and he let out a shuddering breath. He cleared his throat and continued. "She'll get help and she'll be around for however long she has left. Don't miss that. It will only eat you up inside. Trust me." He placed a hand atop of her head and ruffled her hair, hurrying to catch up to Scott.

She ran her fingers through her mussed hair to fix it and then gave her head a sharp shake. She could feel a headache coming on. She turned back to her locker, popped the lock, opened it, and pulled out her books for the day. She could already tell it was going to be annoyingly long. _Just get to the game and everything will be fine. _

But even with her cycling that thought around in her mind in an effort to believe herself she knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be fine. And her instincts didn't take long to be proven right. Her classes were a big blur of confusion and boredom, save for Finstock yelling in Economics about Greenberg splitting his pants and showing them a moon that they "didn't need to see in the day time, for Pete's sake!" The amusement that had filled her up and put a smile on her face drained out of her and pulled her smile down into a frown when she checked her phone after class.

She read the message on the screen a few times, double-checking that her mind wasn't making up the words. Her heart dropped and her shoulders fell with it. She slapped it down on the top shelf and rubbed her thumbs into her eyes. She was in the middle of unloading her books from her earlier classes when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. One swift look over her shoulder and she was met with the sight of an annoyed redhead. Or, if Stiles was around to correct, _strawberry-blonde_ head.

"If you've come here to tell me to not embarrass you through Jackson, you don't have to," she told Lydia. "I'm not going to the game."

"What? Wait. No. Like _hell_ you're not!" Lydia declared. Melanie whirled around to face her. Lydia's eyebrows were furrowed and her wide eyes were staring at her pointedly. With her purse hanging from her elbow, she closed the distance between the two girls in the empty hallway. "Not only are you going to the game, you're going to play _and_ you're going to show Jackson up."

Melanie closed her locker, resting her palm against the smooth metal surface. "Look, I get that you're mad about the break up but—"

"Oh no. I'm not mad about that," Lydia replied, her expression turning almost manic with her conviction. "Being broken up with by the _co-_captain? Please. That's nothing." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "What you're doing, however, is not nothing. Beating Jackson? Scott already did that. But a _girl_ beating him? Hasn't been done. And it _needs_ to be done. And you're the only one who can do it. You're going to war, Melanie. A lady going to war needs her war paint."

Now she was thoroughly confused and spluttered a few times before managing to get out, "War paint?"

Lydia dug into her purse and pulled out a blush brush, eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara. "You may be playing a boy's game but you're going to be a lady while doing it. Come on!"

Melanie didn't protest when Lydia grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the bathroom. Because you didn't go against Lydia Martin. She knew what she wanted and she knew what she had to do to get what she wanted. Not that there would be a point in fighting her, it would be akin to speaking to a brick wall. A funny sight no matter the occasion. Not that Lydia and Melanie having a conversation on its own was something normal. She wasn't even sure they had even exchanged ten words in the seven years they've known each other. Sure, they did hang out during Valentine's Day but that didn't count. She spent more time with Allison and anytime Lydia talked to her was to keep her from dogging Jackson (who deserved it, by the way.) And yet here she was, allowing Lydia to lead her to the bathroom to get makeup put on her. As much as she claimed that it had to do with her fighting a "war" and wanting to show Jackson up, Melanie felt that Lydia cared about her predicament somewhere deep inside. It was sweet of her. A bit odd, but sweet.

By the time she escaped Lydia's clutches—she had to wrestle the eyelash curler away from her—lunch was long since underway and the ball of hunger in her stomach was trying to claw its way out while it shouted at her. All the good stuff would have been taken so she hoped that Erica had bought her something or at least saved her a seat. She didn't mind sharing. Erica didn't like butterscotch pudding anyway.

She pinpointed Erica's blond hair in the crowded cafeteria. It was like a beacon calling to her. She dodged and weaved her way around the other students in the cafeteria until she reached the table Erica was occupying. As soon as Melanie got close Erica lifted her head and smiled at her. She swore she saw sunshine in that smile. It was enough to make her put on a smile and pick up her energy.

"Eri! Did you hear about Greenberg? He split his pants wide open! He has a gigantic mole on his ass. It looks kinda like—_aiiieee!_"

Jumping up from the chair she just sat on, the _occupied_ chair she just sat on, she scrambled to sit in the empty seat but her momentum caused the cheap plastic stoppers on the bottom to glide across the floor. Holding onto the chair for dear life, she could only sit back and wait for the terrible ride to stop. She ducked her head and felt her face twist to a grimace when she crashed into someone, watching as their food hit the floor. "Okay," she said, feeling many eyes on her, "I deserve at least an eight for that slide. I think I lost points on the lack of finesse." Glancing up, she smiled sheepishly at the boy who was glaring at her. "Hey, dude, I did you a favor. Tuna casserole? Rookie mistake. Go for the chicken salad. Your asshole will thank you later." She patted his arm and used her feet to scoot her back to the table where Isaac and Erica looked as if they were stuck between being completely done with her or laughing at her.

Cheeks aflame, she laced her fingers together and clicked her tongue. "Okay, Lahey, which did you like better? Me sitting on you or your balloon? Choose wisely."

One half of his mouth lifted in a smile and he tapped the back of his spoon against the mashed potatoes sitting on his tray. "I don't want you killing me, so the balloon," he replied. "Thanks."

"It was Erica's idea," Melanie said, reaching across the table to tap the back of Erica's hand. Erica's eyebrows furrowed and Melanie widened her eyes a little. Okay, so it was her idea to give Isaac the balloon but it was Erica's idea to buy them in the first place. So what if Isaac thought it was her idea alone? She wanted her two friends to get along.

She already had a separate thing going on with Scott and Stiles, she didn't want to have to juggle three sets of friends when one group could merge. In fact, she was sure Isaac and Erica could get along. They were both on the shy side but they could be funny and fun and confidant too! It may take a bit to get there, but those attribute were there. She only saw them in glimpses and so she wouldn't rest until she could pull it out of them.

"How'd you get it into my locker?" Isaac asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I know your combination," Melanie said offhandedly. She reached across the table and plucked a few chicken nuggets off of Erica's tray. "What? I saw you do it once. It's not my fault it's easy to remember and besides, anyone can see it standing across the hall like I did."

Isaac's eyes widened. Erica waved her hand. "Her eyesight's scary good. Always has been. She can always tell whenever something is moved even the slightest bit," she explained and took a bite of her lunch. Small pieces of the hamburger she ordered were scattered across her tray. "Don't even get her started when a picture frame is crooked. God forbid." Melanie stuck out her tongue and Erica threw a french fry at it. She happily caught the fry in her mouth and chewed.

"I'm not _that_ bad. Unlike you, who can't eat things that have touched each other," Melanie shot back. Now Erica stuck out her tongue before stabbing a piece of hamburger with her fork and popped it into her mouth. "What about you, Isaac? You have to have a little weirdo inside of you somewhere," she said, nudging him with her elbow.

He shrugged. "I like to think that I'm normal, so…"

"And we're not normal?" Melanie slapped a hand to her chest, feigning . "Did you hear that, Eri? Isaac thinks we're not normal. I am shocked! I am hurt!"

"Do I wound you?" Isaac teased, cutting off her guilt trip. Erica snorted and Melanie glared.

"You make me sound overdramatic."

"Because you _are_," Erica pointed out. "Remember back in fifth grade when you got a bad grade on your history report—"

Melanie threw her arms in the air. "Because I got a sucky topic! Who the hell cares about Mesopotamia?"

"—and you were so convinced that your mom was going to kill you that you made me give you a funeral during recess? Flowers and eulogy and all?" Erica asked.

Melanie sat back in her chair, her arms crossed loosely over her chest and squinting. "Huh. Yeah, I remember that. Stiles stepped on my headstone."

"You had a headstone?" Isaac asked.

"Eh, it was just a piece of paper. But still! You don't just tread on people's graves! You'd have ghosts on your ass for the rest of your life. You don't play with that shit." She clicked her tongue. "Okay, that was one time."

Erica smirked, her eyes flashing in mischievous delight. "You threw yourself on the ground when you dropped your ice cream cone one summer."

"I'm justified! It was cookie dough. You don't just give up on cookie dough."

"You went on a rampage when they changed the size of Chips Ahoy cookies."

"And you thought I was going crazy when I first noticed it too."

Erica held up her finger, running her tongue along her bottom lip as a large smile took over her face. She leaned across the table and motioned for Isaac to lean forward. Melanie rolled her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead, waiting for whatever it was that Erica was going to come up with to make the situation sound worse than it really was. "One time she ordered ten piece chicken nuggets, right? She got nine instead. A normal circumstance that people would brush off. But not Mel. Nope. She is _still_ not over it and refuses to accept her order unless it has the correct number of nuggets in it. She will insist that they fry up one more for her."

Isaac hooted with laughter. Melanie smiled at the sound, despite it being at her expense. She had only heard him laugh a few times over the years. It was a rare sound, but one that she would like to hear more often. It filled her with a certain sort of joy that made her heart soar and made her come to a firm decision.

If he could find some way to have a good day even when he knew that his father wasn't going to the game, she could too.

**_# # #_**

"Are you nervous?" Erica asked. A strand of her hair was clenched tight between her fingers as she pulled on it, watching Melanie put on her lacrosse gear.

"No. I think you are, though," she replied, looking up from her shoelaces to nod at her.

Erica looked down at her hands and then dropped her hair, crossing her arms instead. "I just don't want you getting hurt," she stated.

"That's if I play. And I probably won't." Melanie made a scoff-like noise as she placed her hands on her knees and got onto her feet. "Lydia's whole 'war paint' spiel will be for nothing." Erica's eyebrows crinkled. It made the red in the acne that dotted her forehead stand out. "Earlier she caught me at my locker and was saying how I was a lady going to war and I needed war paint so she put some makeup on me."

"I thought your lashes looked longer," Erica muttered, her eyes roaming her friend's face. "But, uh…Lydia gave you makeup?"

"Uh huh," Melanie muttered, grabbing her lacrosse stick from her locker.

"I've been trying to get you to wear some for years."

Melanie pursed her lips. She didn't have to look at Erica to see the hurt on her face. She could hear it in her words and feel it in the way that they slammed into her and battered her. "It's just makeup, Eri. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean I'm not your friend or anything just because Lydia put it on me. She didn't give me a choice, really. For a mallwalker she is scary strong." When she finally looked over at Erica she groaned so hard her head tilted backwards. "You're not going to be annoyed with me right before the game, are you? Come on! Don't be upset. We're not BFFs. She has Allison for that." She took Erica's hand and swung it between them, lacing their fingers together. "You're still my number one girl. Okay?"

Erica released the lip she had been chewing on, sighed, and nodded. "I know," she conceded. "Can we still get ice cream after the game?"

"Of course. Something tells me I'm going to need it."

Melanie clung onto Erica's hand as tight as she could as she walked off, feeling her fingers drag through hers until she was gripping empty space. Her heart thudded in her chest and she took in a deep breath to calm herself down. _There's no need to get nervous, you're not even going to play_ she kept telling herself to try and calm her racing heart but it was hard. She could hear the muffled cheers from the field. She could hear sirens and horns bleating into the cool night air only punctuated by shrill whistles and Coach Finstock's shouting.

She gave her head a shake, grabbed her helmet and left the locker room. It was game time!

As usual, Isaac stood outside the door waiting for her and the two walked out to the field. The cold bit at her exposed skin and turned her breath into small clouds. Their cleats dug into the grass beneath their feet as they walked towards their teammates who milled up and down the sidelines or sat on the bench with bouncing legs and clenched jaws. The high energy from the stands colliding with the nervous energy from the team in the middle of the walkway made Melanie sick to her stomach. She just wanted the game to start. At least that way she could channel her energy into screaming like a maniac and supporting her team.

"Scott, where's Biles?" Melanie asked as she dropped down on the bench next to him. She snickered at the name. Leave it to Coach Finstock to be totally convinced that Stiles's name was actually _Biles_. Who would do that to their kid?

"He's with Derek," Scott replied, pointing to the phone up to his ear.

Melanie's head whipped up. Maybe she had heard him wrong. "What!? But the game's about to start."

"I know," Scott sighed.

"Scott! He's _First Line_!"

"I know!"

"What's he doing that's so important?" Scott held up his finger, signaling for her to wait. She huffed and rolled her helmet around between her hands as she waited for him to get off the phone. Her eyes scanned the field, watching some of their opponents running around the field and stretching. She could see their muscles beneath their jerseys. They were big guys. She gulped. They were going to be tough to beat. "Well?" She prompted, slapping Scott on the arm as he hung up. "What's going on?"

"I found the necklace earlier," Scott explained. "Don't get your hopes up; there was nothing in it or on it or the back of it. It was a dead end. Now Stiles is doing something with Derek and he's going to be late to the game."

"But…Stiles won't play if he doesn't show. He'll be kicked off First Line," Melanie pointed out.

"I know," Scott said grimly.

They fell into silence, both hoping and praying that they would see Stiles sometime soon so he could play. But as time wore on they knew that their hopes weren't going to be granted. Scott started to pull on his gloves, taking his time by latching and unlatching the Velcro on the wrists. Melanie tapped the front of her cleats together, looking around at the packed stands and the opponents on the opposite bench and Coach Finstock pacing, his whistle clamped between his teeth like a pacifier. He probably needed it, too.

Both she and Scott looked up when Jackson approached, his eyes trained on Scott which only meant he was deliberately sitting down next to him. Melanie lightly nudged Scott, letting him know that she was there to help him out if he needed it. He barely nodded his head and she sat perfectly still, not wanting to miss a single word Jackson said.

Her fingers drummed against the cold metal of the bench. So _that's_ why he'd been acting weird. He wanted the bite! She almost laughed out loud. He wouldn't want it after he saw what Scott had to go through. How he couldn't be normal. How the bite wasn't a _good_ thing, but of course Jackson wouldn't see it that way.

As far back as she could remember he'd always wanted the best. If someone got a new CD player he had to get the better one on the market. If someone got a nice car, he had to one up with a Porsche. Bigger and Better was the only game he knew how to play and the only game he wanted to play. And once he saw Scott and his newfound abilities made him a star of _course_ he'd want in on it too. To restore his big man on campus status or some other bullshit excuse he needed to always be on top and step on others beneath him. She wondered if the thin air up there made it hard for him to breathe or if that was the reason he got so crazy sometimes. It'd explain how manic he appeared when trying to give Scott clues to the Argent name.

"It means silver," Melanie jumped in at the same time Jackson spoke. "Argent? Yeah, it means silver. Only the pronunciation is wrong, but that's what we get for Americanizing the word. It has more of a hard 'g' sound to it and you drop the 't' at the end and….I'm not helping," she trailed off, noticing the massive levels of "who gives a fuck?" that was radiating from Jackson. "But yeah, they weren't kidding when they said silver kills werewolves. I guess they just weren't paying attention to what kind." Now Scott was looking at her though his eyes were wide and panic settled into them. She flinched, her shoulders rising up to her ears. "Sorry! Would you rather have people or wolfsbane kill you?"

"I'd rather have _nothing_ kill me!" Scott shot back. They all shut up when Finstock approached, wrapping his arms around Jacksons and Scott's shoulders in the process. Once again he went off on one of his brief yet confusing idiom-laden speeches which ended in him threatening to not give Scott an A in Econ if they didn't win the game that night. And then to make matters worse, Jackson then demanded that Scott get him the bite in only 7s hours.

"Are you crazy?" Melanie jumped in, leaning forward to look at Jackson. "You want him to get _the Alpha_ to bite you? The Alpha. Do you not get how serious that is? He's called the Alpha for a reason! He's top dog, no pun intended."

"Well, then that makes it all that fitting for me to get the bite then, doesn't it?" He asked, his lips curling into a smirk. No one had a chance to respond to him due to Coach Finstock calling them all down to the field to give them a pep talk.

Melanie gripped her stick between her fingers and listened intently to his speech, which was basically pleas for a victory with put-downs peppered in between to make him sound more encouraging than he really was. At least he tried; they couldn't fault him for that. But as much as she tried to pay attention Scott's head turning to and fro got her attention instead and after they broke their huddle she immediately went to his side.

"I can hear them," he explained, lifting his chin in the Argent's direction. "They're talking about Jackson's scars. They think he's the other beta. Keep an eye on them during the game."

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. "Okay, and what do you want me to do if they try something? The Hokey Pokey? I mean, it's a crowd pleaser but I'm pretty sure _hunters_ aren't going to take the time out of their regime to put their hands in and shake it all about."

"Let's go, McCall!" Coach Finstock barked.

"Look, I can't talk now. Just…just watch them. Alright? Watch them and do anything you can to stop them if they try anything."

"But who would be crazy enough to try anything at a lacrosse game!?" She wanted to shout after him but she clamped her lips shut, the unspoken words colliding against the back of her teeth. She dutifully plunked down on the bench with the other second line players. Her thumbnail immediately went between her teeth and she chewed on it while watching the game. Next to her Isaac's leg bounced against the ground and Matt's camera shutter went off every few seconds. The soundtrack to a lacrosse game was a unique one.

The game moved fast. Players in red and players in blue ran up and down the field, stopping on a time when the play called for it to change the flow. Their opponents got an easy lead, despite Jackson's and Scott's best efforts. They were bigger, faster, and stronger than the Beacon Hills team could comprehend. It was almost as if they could read the Cyclones' very own minds and covered their bases before they could even take one step.

Coach Finstock was going ballistic on the sidelines. It would have been comical if it weren't so sad. His eyes appeared to bug out of his head, his hair stuck out in all directions due to him pulling on it in aggravation. His jaw moved from side to side as he gritted and grinded his teeth. His cheeks pooled red; if that was from frustration or from the cold was hard to determine. His voice barked out clearly through the night, easily surpassing the whistles and the cheers from the audience in volume. He would certainly be hoarse the next morning.

Everyone would be. As the clock counted down to half time both teams were on their feet, yelling at the field. The audience in the stands shouted their support as well, creating a cyclone of deafening noise. The refs tried to keep the peace but it was chaos. Half-time couldn't come at a better time, even though the Cyclones were down 2-4 and they were a few players down due to injuries.

"Alright, get in here guys. Get your sorry asses in here," Coach Finstock barked once the whistle for half-time was blown. He was surrounded by a wall of red faced, sweaty, panting boys who waited to hear what he had to say. "What was that? We're playing a game here, not having tea! Attack them! Run _through _them! Don't give them an inch! You see those boys on the sidelines? They got scared! They got jumpy! They broke!" He grabbed at his hair and began to pace. "Where the _hell_ is Bilinski? McCall! Where's your friend?"

Scott's heavy breathing paused only when he swallowed thickly. He shook his head. "I…I don't know, coach," he replied, his voice hoarse. Melanie could tell it was more out of concern than it was about the fate of the game. It had been near forty minutes since the game had started and there had been no sign of him. No phone calls, nothing. It made Melanie's gut twist; she only wished she could twist his neck the same way her insides were turning. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, especially coupled with the return of her headache.

"We need someone who can get past them. They're quick," Coach continued. "That way McCall or Jackson can be open for any shot on their end." He rubbed his chin, his wide eyes moving back and forth as he surveyed the group until finally they landed on the shortest person in the circle. "Crowe! Today's your lucky day. Get your helmet on and for the love of _God_, don't embarrass me!"

"Me!?" Melanie squeaked, pointing at herself.

"Her!?" Jackson repeated, extending his lacrosse stick in her direction. "Coach! At least put Lahey in. He can cover more distance."

"That may be right, Jackson, but she can squeeze her way between these guys like cheese oozing out of a burrito," Coach Finstock replied.

Melanie raised her hand. "If I'm going to be oozing out of anything, can I ooze out of a chimichanga instead?"

Coach Finstock ignored her, continuing to speak to Jackson. "We need agility, not speed." He approached Melanie and added, "Crowe, get your rear in gear! And you better be good or you'll be riding that bench for the rest of the season!"

"Not like she's not used to riding things," she heard someone mutter beneath their breath, followed by quiet snickers.

She ran her tongue along her teeth and nodded at Coach Finstock. Their huddle was broken for them to get drinks of water and get their minds back into the game. Melanie kept her head down, watching herself take every step towards the bench where her helmet and gloves were waiting. Once she got to the bench she looked up at the stands. Maybe her father came after all…. Her eyes swept the stands, hoping to catch the proud smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes but his face was missing. She ducked her head to dig into her bag and when she looked up again Erica was standing in front of her.

"What's up?" she asked.

Without a word, Melanie reached out and hugged her tight. Never in her life had she been so happy to see her friend sitting up in the bleachers. She knew that Erica was probably cold and bored and would rather be doing something else but she was _here_. For her. And that's all she wanted.

"They're letting me play," Melanie replied once they pulled apart.

"What? Mel, that's great!"

"No it's not! They'll be running at me! With sticks! The only time I imagined this happening was during a _very_ vivid dream where I became a piñata," Melanie replied, throwing her arms into the air. "It didn't turn out that well!"

"Because you broke apart?"

"Because the greedy little kids took my candy."

Erica slapped her on the arm. "Mellie, all you've wanted to do since we got into high school was play on the lacrosse team. Now's your chance! You can do this. I _know_ you can." She lightly nudged Melanie. "You got your war paint on. Put it to good use."

Melanie looked down to the glove in her hands and then back up to Erica, a fire burning in her eye. The two girls briefly pressed their foreheads together, smiling at one another, and backed away. Erica scurried back to where she was sitting and held up her thumb. Melanie shot the gesture back and grabbed her ipod. A good few minutes of her lacrosse playlist and she'd be in the zone. But before she could put her earbuds in two boys from the opposing team walked by and grinned at her. Her eyebrows crinkled but then they stopped and approached her.

"So how many times did you have to open your legs to get here?" One asked, a smarmy smile on his face. "What do I get if I give you hot chocolate?"

"Your mom must be proud of you. Having a whore for a daughter," the other laughed. "Does it run in the family? Did she teach you everything you know?"

"Hey, do we get a turn with her after the game?"

The boys walked away, hooting with laughter. Melanie shoved her ipod back into her bag. She had to let go of it, or else she would have destroyed it with how hard she held onto it, wishing that it was their necks between her fingers. How dare they talk to her like that? They didn't even know her! _And_ bringing her mom into it too? She was going to bash those words right out of their mouths!

Her head throbbed and she did her best to control her sharp breaths. Her fingers twitched by her side and then curled into fists, pressing the nails against her palms. Her jaw clenched shut and colors brightened and faded every time she took a breath until they held still. It was almost as if someone had turned on high definition in her vision, she could see everything from the fly buzzing around a woman's head to the small mole on the shin of one of the opponents' players who sat on the bench as if they were held right in front of her face.

"Mel? Are you okay?" Scott asked.

She grinned, yanking her gloves on. "Never been better, Scott." She grabbed her helmet and pulled it down over her head, tapping the top to make sure it was in place. "We have a game to win. No sense in delaying their defeat, now is there?"

"Err. Don't you want to get water first? Stretch a little bit or something?"

"No." Melanie lifted the lacrosse stick pendant off her chest, gave it a hard squeeze, and tucked it beneath her shirt. "I'm fine. Great even." She could count every little strand of fiber in the thread of her glove. "Let's do this."

Despite eyes showing confusion, Scott held out his gloved hand and she fist bumped it. The whistle blew and they made their way back onto the field: Scott in the left Attacker position, Jackson in the middle, and Melanie on the right. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that two of the attackers on the opposing team were the two idiots that thought they were funny. Hmmm. This could be interesting.

"Jackson," she muttered, easily garnering his attention. "When they blow the whistle, let them get the ball."

"Okay, now I _know_ you've completely lost your mind. Or however much of it you had left," he grunted. "I'm _not_ giving them the ball!"

"Will you get your head out of your ass for _once_ and do this one thing for me please?" She exploded. She swore, for a second her vision turned purple but she chalked that up to her agitated state. "Just let them get it. Trust me!"

He stared at her for a moment and then turned back to his opponent as the ref walked up to the field. The two crouched down, holding their sticks against one another as they waited. Melanie turned her stick around in her palms. The boy standing across from her grinned. She could see the little fleck of pepper wedged between two of his teeth. She blew a heavy breath out of her nose. She dug her cleats into the ground. Her heart beat thudded in her ears.

The whistle blew.

Jackson wrestled with the other player but, surprisingly, he backed off and allowed them to get the ball. The sound of Coach Finstock's screams drowned out as Melanie took off. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as she ran ahead of Jackson, ducked her head, and smashed into the boy. All his breath flew out of him at once from the force of the blow but she didn't stop. She brought her arms down, scooped up the ball, and ran.

The opposing team was stunned for a moment but then they charged at her. Cradling the ball in the mesh pocket of her stick, she moved this way and that, stopping and starting and spinning around anyone that came at her. She could see every step they were about to take, every swing of their stick before they even moved and adjusted accordingly. She could see the beads of sweat rolling down their cheeks, each individual freckle on their faces, and the bit of plaque on their gritted teeth as she ran.

One defender charged at her. He was a mountain of a man, wide shoulders and thick powerful legs. She grabbed her stick tighter and ran at him, meeting him head on. He stretched out his arm, his stick an extension of his reach. She smirked. He left himself wide open.

She stopped, aimed, and with a grunt, swung her arm down. The white ball in her net sailed past the small space beneath his outstretched arm, shot past the goalie's large pocket, and into the back of the goal with a satisfying _swish!_

"Wooohoo!" Scott cheered from behind her.

She blinked, her wide eyes staring at the goal in front of her. Did she actually score that goal? She bounced on her toes, the rush of adrenaline making her breath heavy as she laughed and raised her stick in the air in triumph.

Turning around and jogging back to the line granted her the sight of a few of the opponents staring, open mouthed. Erica was going nuts in the crowd. The Cyclones on the bench were shouting support and Scott rushed at her, lifting her off the ground from the force of his hug.

"Oh my god! That was _amazing_!" he gushed. "Keep doing that and we'll win for sure!"

The beaming smile on her face slowly faded as Jackson approached her. They held each other's gaze and then Jackson muttered a quick "Nice shot" and went back to his position. She reeled. _Jackson Whittemore_ just gave her a compliment.

Oh yeah, she could do this.

The other team put up a valiant effort but they knew they were playing a losing game. Their once confident smiles melted and sagged as they huffed and puffed to catch up to Scott, Jackson, and Melanie who dominated the field. There were a few slipups, where Melanie was tagged two-on-one and bowled over but Scott would be right there ready to protect her, shooting the ball to Danny who would score since he wasn't covered. Everyone underestimated Danny. Jackson, Scott, and Melanie were like magnets, drawing the team towards them as Danny snuck in the open spaces and waited for Scott to pass him the ball.

Jackson would take down anyone that came in his way, knocking people over with little effort. He would feign passing to Danny to take the shot that they left wide open. They had the opposing team running around, forgetting their plays as the Cyclones ran them ragged. After that, it was all downhill for them.

Twenty minutes, a throbbing head, a bruised knee, and a split lip later the game had ended in favor of the Cyclones and Melanie slowly walked off the field. She wanted to savor the moment, but a large weight sat on her chest. It wasn't really her moment, though. It was Stiles's moment. _He _should have been there. _He _should have been on the field playing so Sheriff Stilinski could watch him with pride brimming on his face. _He_ should have been the one making the goals and helping propel the team to victory. _He_ should be the one basking in the wave of celebration from the spectators that stormed the field. But he wasn't. Her mouth twisted to the side. Hopefully he'd forgive her.

"Mellie! _You did it!_" Erica cheered. Melanie almost fell over when Erica collided with her. The weight of her body pressing against hers made everything come out all at once in a laugh: the anxiety, the fear, the uncertainty, the pain, the nerves. Her little haze had broken and was now replaced with a cloud of sweet smelling shampoo and body wash. "_You did it!_ I told you!" The two girls laughed in glee, spinning around on the field. Once untangled, Erica grasped her hands and started jumping up and down. Her giddiness was contagious and Melanie soon found herself jumping with her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Isaac approaching and before he could get out a word she dropped Erica's hand, grabbed his and ordered him to jump up and down with them. He hesitated for only a moment before joining in, the once small smile blossoming like a well-nurtured flower.

She was soon swept up in the huddle of the winning Cyclones and those chanting "State! State! State!" amidst the noise. They tried to tone down their celebration to go through the obligatory line as they said "good game" to their competitors but it was tough and some of them broke before they got to the end. The post-game high carried her off the field. She swore she had little wings on her shoes. She had to get showered and changed as soon as possible to go out for celebratory ice cream with Erica. And of course Isaac was invited now, too. Hopefully Erica didn't mind one more on their outing. After all, who didn't like ice cream? And the saying "the more the merrier" tended to ring true.

The warm shower felt like heaven on her dirty, game-worn skin. She groaned as the water worked its way down her body, massaging heat into her tired muscles. She washed herself and her hair—one of the boys on the other team spat at her—and shut off the water, wrapping her arms around herself to shield from the invading cold. Goosebumps erupted over her skin and she dried off as quickly as possible to get into her clothes.

Dragging her lacrosse bag over to the line of mirrors over the sinks and grimaced at the mascara and eyeliner dripping down her face. "Ugh! That's not a pretty sight," she muttered. She reached over and pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser and rubbed at her face. Colors burst and swam around her eyes in the darkness and once she lowered the paper towel it all came back at once.

Her heart leapt in her throat. A pair of red eyes stared back at her, over her shoulder. She whirled around, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping in a silent scream as the man approached. She lifted a trembling finger and gasped, "It's you! But…but your face!"

The man grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth. "Please, dear, now's not the time to focus on such trivial things," he taunted. His eyes flashed red again. His nose wrinkled and a snarl rumbled in his chest.

And then he pounced.

* * *

><p><strong><em>an - P.S. I know that Omi's Cheerleader didn't come out until 2012, while this story is set initially in 2011, but it's basically Melica's theme song so I had to put it in._**


	20. Fight or Flight

**_Chapter 20: Fight or Flight_**

Porcelain cracked beneath Melanie's back slamming into it; at least she hoped it was the sink and not her own back breaking. Pain shot out through her back, spreading like a spider web. She could feel her spine digging into the edge of the sink; her breath came out in hisses between her gritted teeth as she tried to breathe through the pain but it was hard to do with the man's clawed fingers gripping the collar of her shirt. The claws poked through the fabric like it was wet cardboard and she could feel them scraping against the skin by her collar bone. She grabbed onto his wrists, trying to break his grip but he had werewolf adrenaline running through him so her efforts were futile.

"I have to say I'm impressed with your skill out on the field," he commented in an easy tone, as if he were conversing about the weather.

"I can't imagine…that you'd come all this way just to watch lacrosse," Melanie gasped, her sentenced stuttering due to her attempts at getting her breath back. She kicked her legs but the motion was for naught since her feet weren't touching the floor anymore.

"It's not my game. Basketball, now _there's_ a sport. I'd suggest you look into it but you miss the height requirement by, say…a full person."

"I've never heard that before," Melanie replied, her lips pulling back into a brief smile. "Really, I haven't. That was a good one! Though it makes me _really _concerned that you choose to poke at my height rather than put me down or, say, kill me."

The man cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing. "I don't want to kill you."

"Scott, then?" She tried to pull his hands off her again but, like before, her strength was nothing compared to him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly once she released the breath she had held trying to exert as much force as possible on him. "I swear to fucking god if you put one hand on Scott McCall I'll kill you. You hear me? _I'll kill you!_"

He laughed; his lips stretching back to reveal a row of straight, white teeth. It was almost blinding beneath the fluorescent lighting. "That's cute. It's almost…sad, really. Caring so much about someone who is more concerned about another. Someone from a line of _hunters_ of all things. …That must hurt."

She winced, a squeak-like noise coming out of her throat when his nails dug into her skin in conjunction with the end of his sentence. She bit down on her lip, keeping any noise of pain from seeping out. A bead of something warm and wet rolling down her stomach and pooled in her belly button. The lump in her throat bobbed when she swallowed and she locked eyes with the man holding her.

"I can think of something that hurts a little bit worse," she grunted. His eyebrows lifted as he silently challenged her, wondering what could possibly hurt worse. She drew her leg back and shot it out, striking him right between the legs. She fell to the ground in a heap once he let her go, groaning as soon as her shoulder struck the ground. She rolled onto her side, peering up at the man to see him still holding onto the front of his pants. This was supposed to be the Alpha werewolf, wasn't it? "Seriously? That worked?" she muttered and scrambled to her feet.

Her heart pounded against her chest, almost matching the sounds of her shoes slapping against the floor as he ran. It felt like she was flying, she ran so fast. But this was a werewolf she was up against. An _Alpha_ werewolf of all things. Running away only gave him something to chase, gave him a sort of game to win. It didn't take long for the man to catch up to her. A second, really. The time it took for her to blink.

Her fingers slipped against the handle of the door, her freedom slipping through her fingers when she felt a strong yank on her ankle. She slammed against the floor, her chin catching the brunt of the fall. Her teeth clamped down on her tongue and sunk in before she unclamped her jaw and pulled her now throbbing tongue back in. Her fingertips dragged against the floor as she tried to get away but a knee pressing into her spine kept her from moving.

"I don't know why they always run, it just makes things last much longer than they need to," the man's voice said, his mouth hovering by her ear. She jerked her head away but he grabbed her forehead, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. Her lower lip trembled as he reached forward and dragged the tips of his claws against his skin.

"If I'm going to die…don't I at least get to know who killed me?" she asked, doing her best to speak with her rapidly swelling tongue.

"I already told you, I'm not going to kill you. But I suppose pleasantries are in order. My name's Peter Hale. I'm sure Derek's spoken about me." Melanie's eyebrows crinkled and her eyes shifted from side to side as if searching for confirmation in the room. Above her she heard Peter gasp softly. "Not a word? Hmm, I have something I need to talk with him about. I always thought I was his favorite uncle."

The muscles in her arms tightened as she tried to push against the ground, but it was like trying to do a pushup with a metal case on her back. But still she tried and tried and tried until her arms collapsed and her cheek pressed against the dirty floor. Her tears spilled over her cheeks and her body convulsed with her quiet sobs. "What…what do you want from me?"

Peter tisked. "You don't know what you are, do you?" His claws pulled backwards, past her cheek and near her ear where he pulled her hair out of her face. She winced at the bright light that assaulted her red and burning eyes.

Her ears buzzed a low hum that matched the pitch of a light bulb. Her chest tightened and her blood ran cold. "What…what are you talking about?" she whispered, her shaky voice sliding across the surface of the floor.

"Huh. You _really_ don't know. Didn't think I'd have to be the one to tell you. Oh well, this can be my act of charity for the day." The pressure on her spine increase as he shifted his position and removed his claws from the side of her head. She could feel the tip of one sliding down her back, tracing the top of her spine to the bottom. A zippering noise accompanied his trailing finger and it took her a second to realize it was the fabric of her shirt tearing beneath his claw.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin once her back was exposed to the cool air. With her remaining strength she pushed against the ground, straining to knock him off. Slipping his hand off her forehead, Peter grasped the back of her head and slammed it onto the ground. Stars burst before her eyes and her vision swam. "You're going to want to hold still," Peter advised. She could almost hear the smile in his words; the lack of warmth in his tone made her shiver. "This might hurt."

A scream ripped from her throat when he stabbed his claws into her back, right between her shoulder blades. Fire licked at the puncture wounds and they throbbed in time with her heart beat. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and rolled along the curve of her chin; dirt stuck to her cheeks where the tear tracks lay. Her throat burned as another scream wracked her body when he dragged his nails down her back.

She could feel her skin ripping apart; inch by inch every little bit of skin beneath his nails gave way beneath the sharp claw. Blood seeped out of her wounds, trailing down her sides and dripped onto the floor, adding color in the otherwise dreary room. Bright swam around in the darkness of Melanie's closed eyes which burst with each pulse of pain. It took a moment for her to realize the strange, wet sucking sound that filled the air was her. Every sobbing-breath she pushed out, she spat out blood. The metallic taste coated her tongue and filled her mouth with every breath. It mixed with her saliva and dribbled down her chin. _Just kill me. Just kill me. JUST KILL ME!_

Darkness seeped into her vision, a vignette effect blurring the edges. The once harsh fluorescents softened and the dirty locker-room faded away and was replaced by a string of memories: her three-year-old self running around the front yard, giggling as her parents chased her; her five-year-old self grinning from ear-to-ear as her neighbors cheered her on while riding a training wheel-less bike for the first time; her ten-year-old self meeting Erica for the first time; her eleven-year-old self getting first place in her first swim meet in Beacon Hills; the sleepovers she shared with Erica; the long phone conversations; the summer trips to the Reyes beach house; the first drive-thru run in her new truck; their trips to the county fair; getting her lacrosse jersey; getting Nova; having an actual conversation with Isaac at his house; her first game; watching her mom and dad dancing across their kitchen floor, large sun-filled smiles on their faces…

A weight pressed down on her chest. She felt as if she was breathing through a clogged straw. Her head pounded. Her chest tightened. The darkness grew and let in pinpoints of light. The humming in her ears faded until she couldn't hear anything, not her gaps for air, not Peter's breathing, nothing. It was like her head was being held underwater. She sunk even further in the darkness, a weightless sensation surrounded her. She was floating…

The weight on her back lifted with the simultaneous screech that bounced around the room. Melanie lay on the ground, her drying blood making her stick to the floor. The muffled sounds of a scuffle were punctuated by grunts of pain and slams against the nearby lockers. The smell of fresh blood wafted in the air. She didn't know it had a smell, but then her body ran cold. That could only mean there was a lot of blood split. Was it all hers? Most of it? How much had she lost? Even with the questions flying through her mind she didn't want the answers and rocked her head from side to side to get rid of them. She didn't want her last thoughts to be about blood. She wanted them to be about her friends, her family, Erica…

She blinked. Her world turned upside-down. The tile floor became the ceiling and her arms and legs dangled in air. Her eyebrows furrowed at the splatter of blood on the floor, the residue much darker than she ever imagined it would be. This wasn't the janitor's blood or the bus driver's blood. This was _her_ blood.

"Don't worry, Hummingbird. You'll be okay." Melanie's half-lidded eyes rolled in her head before looking up. The darkness smudged away and she saw a familiar jaw line, saw familiar hair, saw familiar eyes looking back at her. _Her_ eyes.

Her nose twitched and the sweet cologne settled in the back. Her lips pulled back in the corners as peace settled over her. "Daddy," she murmured, her voice a painful rasp. She snuggled closer to his chest and breathed out a sigh. She was okay, her daddy had her.

Wrapped in her father's arms she tried to look around, to find Peter and give him a well deserved middle finger to the eye but he was nowhere to be found. Relaxing, she settled in her father's strong grip and let her heavy eyes close.

When she opened them again light flickered across her face every few seconds. Her body rocked from side to side in a gentle motion and the fabric beneath her felt like a cloud. She tried to move her arms but they felt as if they were filled with sand. She couldn't feel her back; there was no pain or irritation at all, just a numb sensation. Flopping her arm over, her finger tips brushed against the edge of the…car seat? Her eyes narrowed. She heard cars whizzing past the window, heard soft rock seeping out of the speakers, and heard the occasional _tick tick tick_ of the blinking turn signal. Her father's soft words filtered in through the darkness, "We're almost there, Hummingbird, just hold on."

"Okay Daddy," she conceded, lying down. Sleep took over once more.

When she awoke again it felt as if hours had gone by. Her eyes moved around the room to try and find a clock but they circled the room slowly. Her chest swelled and fluttered with the shaky breath that she breathed out, like her body was only waking up from a nap. "Dad?" she croaked, her heart jumping in her chest. Where was he? Where was _she?_

Shuffling footsteps sounded above her head and then fingers brushed against her forehead and caressed her hair. "I'm right here, Mel," he affirmed. She nestled her cheek into the cup of his palm as he stroked it with his thumb. "I'm right here."

"Where am I?"

"You're at the Animal Clinic," Dr. Deaton stated, stepping into view. "Your father brought you here as soon as possible."

"Why…why here? What…? I don't understand." Her fingers brushed against the back of her father's hand, his larger hand instantly curling around hers. She placed her free hand on the cool table she lay atop of and managed to get up into a sitting position. Pops zippered down her spine as she leaned forward. It made her pause.

Her eyebrows furrowed and it all came slamming back to her at once. Peter Hale showing up in the locker room after the game. Peter Hale slamming her head into the ground. Peter Hale digging his claws into her back. Peter Hale, Peter Hale, _Peter Hale_.

Her body seized with the strength of her gasp and she started patting the space around her. "Where's…where is it? _Where is it_?"

"Where's what?" Laurence asked.

"My phone! Peter Hale – _The Alpha!_ Scott! I have to make sure Scott's okay!" She yanked the sheet on her legs upwards; it billowed and ripped like an ocean wave before settling back down. Whipping her arm out, she grabbed onto Laurence's arm, her fingernails digging into his skin, her eyes wide with "Where's my stuff? Dad, gimmie your phone! I have to text Scott. Peter's looking for him! I need to – he _has_ to be okay!"

"Melanie—"

"Oh god, I hope nothing happened to him. I hope I didn't – but what if Peter? – Dad! You have to take me back to the school! If we get there soon enough maybe we can help him."

"Melanie—"

"He has to be okay, right? I mean, the Alpha wouldn't just attack in the middle of the night would he? …Okay, I guess maybe he _would_ but – I just need to see that Scott's alright and not dying somewhere and—"

Removing his arm from his daughter's grasp, Laurence then leaned forward until their noses practically touched. "_Melanie,_" he said firmly, his blue eyes flashing a bright violet, "I need you to calm. Down."

The trail of words died on her tongue as her muscles relaxed and her shoulders dropped. She felt as if she had been given a large dose of Xanax, all her anxieties melted away until it was replaced with a serene blanket resting atop of her. Laurence's eyes shifted back to their blue color as Dr. Deaton approached her.

"I know a lot has gone on and some of this will come as a shock to you, but rest assured I'm here to help," he said.

"How can you help?" Melanie asked, rubbing her forehead. Her fingers

He gave a wry smile. "I've been dealing with the Supernatural for a long time. I've seen more than anything you could ever imagine. I can help with the Alpha and I can help with you too."

"Is that how…?" her words trailed off as she grabbed the front of the clean t-shirt she was wearing and looked down. The puncture marks on her chest were gone. Twisting this way and that she tried to see down the back of her shirt but she gave up after a couple of seconds. "I wasn't wearing this shirt earlier," she muttered, almost as an afterthought.

"Peter destroyed your shirt," Laurence replied.

"Damn. I liked that shirt." She shook her head and looked up at her dad. "I don't understand. I should…I should be dead right now. He scratched me up real bad. But I'm healed." Her eyes then moved over to Dr. Deaton. "I assume you helped with that?" He nodded and pressed his lips into a line.

"Melanie, listen to me." Laurence grasped her hand and squeezed it. Melanie's breath caught in her throat at his tone. The playful sparkle in his eye was long gone; it was replaced by a look of such seriousness that it made her heart skip a beat. "I know you have a lot of questions right now but you have to understand something. All of this that happened, what you went through tonight…it's because you're a siren." Her face scrunched up as his words settled upon her so he licked his lips and continued. "I'm one too. And I've been…monitoring you and your abilities. I didn't think they'd come so soon but, well, you've never been a patient one." He chuckled and ran a hand though his hair, studying Melanie's face for any sort of reaction.

She had sucked her lips into her mouth and her eyes were narrowed. Her fingers twitched by her side and she held her breath, scared that if she let it go even in the slightest then all of this would go away. And she'd find out that she was dreaming and would wake up any moment to have to relive the day. Her heart fluttered and her eyelashes followed due to the rapid blinking in her attempts for comprehension. This had to be what Peter Hale was talking about. She was a siren. Her dad was a siren. _She _was a_ siren._

"…_That's so cool!_" She burst out, a smile splitting across her face. Dr. Deaton's and Laurence's eyes narrowed and then they looked at one another. Not sensing the confusion surrounding them, her mouth continued to rattle off her thoughts. "I mean, I always thought I was weird but I didn't think I was _weird_. But, I mean, this makes a _lot_ of sense now. I figure that's why I swim so well? And why I see well? And why I like to sing?"

"Actually, singing has nothing to do with it. That's you on your own," Laurence filled in, his words feeble. He was still reeling at how calmly she was taking the news. "See, sirens are known for luring people but what does the luring is different depending…" his words trailed off and he pulled his mouth in closer.

"Depending on what?" Melanie asked, bouncing on the table in her fascination.

Laurence sighed. "What type of siren you are."

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "There are different types?"

"Yes. Only two. That we know of so far, anyway. The Avian variety and the Mere variety."

"So…a bird or a fish," she filled in for him. She hummed, nodding and tapping her chin with her finger. "What kind are you?"

"Mere. But Melanie—"

"Wait, what am I then?"

"We don't know yet. It's a bit complicated. Before your powers are fully controlled you're one or the other. You depict characteristics of the Avian variety and the Mere variety up until you face a test that helps you decide."

"Like what?"

"Do you remember Persephone?"

Melanie's nose scrunched up as she thought. "She was taken to the Underworld by Hades."

"Do you remember the story of Sirens in the Persephone story?"

"Yeah. It was Ovid's depiction that said they were her human companions. After Hades took her they looked for her everywhere they could. Eventually they prayed for wings to fly across the sea to find her. Though some depictions have Demeter turning them into birds as punishment for not guarding her."

"Right." Laurence nodded. "In this sense, the Avian Sirens test comes in the form of protection. Their wings will come out when the time is right, when they are needed for protection. Mere Sirens, in contrast, are fighters. Their legs will be able to form into a fin when the time is right."

"Think of it as a Fight-or-Flight," Dr. Deaton spoke up. "Your instincts will help the choice get made for you. But remember, you are only half. You won't have the same strengths as someone who's a full Siren. In that case, it's why you'll end up needing a partner."

"A partner?" Melanie repeated. First she was going to turn into a bird or a fish and now she needed to have a partner?

"Yes. You're going to need one eventually," Laurence replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But Melanie—"

"What was with that eye thing? They flashed like Scott's did—oh; by the way, he's a werewolf. Can you believe that?" She shook her head, blowing out a breath. "And people didn't believe me. You know, this _totally_ means Harris could be a vampire."

"Vampires don't exist," Dr. Deaton informed.

"What!? How can werewolves and sirens exist but vampires don't? Is there some sort of supernatural rule I don't know about? But man, I don't know how I didn't see this coming! I mean, I did a _project_ on Greek Mythology for Pete's sake—"

"Melanie!" Laurence cut in, his loud voice making her jump. "Focus, please! I get this is exciting to you but you have to understand that this is dangerous. Peter went after you _for a reason_. You're in danger just as much as Scott is. If a harpy or a faerie ever come to Beacon Hills, you'll be their first target. If there are any other werewolves out there, you can't guarantee that they'll be on your side like Scott is. You have abilities that people _will_ torture you or kill you over."

The light in Melanie's eyes faded, her shoulders slumped and her smile dropped as if a light had been switched off in her head. Her eyes shifted back and forth between her father and Dr. Deaton. The energy that had bounced around her came to a complete standstill and a lump as hard as a rock settled in her throat. She licked her lips and pushed a hand through her hair, pulling on the end.

"Is this…is this why Mom…?" The lump stopped her from being able to complete her sentence. Her mother couldn't have wanted to cut her own life short because of what she was, what her husband was…could she? They were married; they were supposed to be together for better and for worse. This had to be worse. So why was she giving up?

Laurence shook his head. "No, your mother's choice did not stem from this. Your mother is just…having a hard time right now. But she'll be okay, sweetie, don't you worry about that. She'll be home again soon." Melanie grasped his hand and squeezed it. The crack in his voice made a crack form on her heart. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her close, nuzzling his nose into her hair. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm here to help you. Dr. Deaton as well. You can always come to us."

She nodded against his embrace. Her thoughts whirled around in her mind but nothing stuck as hard as she tried to get them to slow down. Their pace was dizzying and the noise in her head was that of a storm brewing. No one should be subjected to feeling so many emotions in a short span on time; she felt like she had just stepped off a rollercoaster: battered and worn out. Her stomach growled. She could really go for some burgers.

"Oh no!" Melanie gasped, jerking away from her father. "Erica! Shit! I was supposed to go have ice cream with her!" She slapped her hands to her face and dragged her fingers down her skin, pulling down her eyelids and her mouth, groaning all the while. "She's going to hate me. I stood her up! Oh God. Dad, I need to go to her house right now."

"It's eleven, sweetie. It's too late, you can see her tomorrow."

"No! I need to see her now! You don't understand!" She swung her legs over the side of the table and hopped down, only to fall straight to her knees when her legs gave out. "Whoa," she muttered, all the strength leaving her at once.

"You need your rest," Dr. Deaton informed her, helping her to her feet. "You lost a lot of blood today and you need time to recuperate from your wounds. You skin may have healed due to some help but you need to heal internally."

She blew out a breath. If that's what they wanted, who was she to argue? She should be dead and lying on the floor of the locker room. But she wasn't, she was still here, still _alive_. She was a little less human than she was when she woke up that morning but that couldn't be too hard of a hurdle to jump over.

**_# # #_**

The fuzzy haze of sleep lifted from Melanie's eyes the next morning with flames licking her back. She writhed on her bed, her fingers digging into the fabric of her top blanket. Her stomach rumbled and then, with a sharp twist, pressure built in her throat. It lifted upwards, cutting off her scream with a loud gurgling. Throwing her head over the side of the bed, Melanie opened her mouth wide and could only w watch as a black liquid splattered against her floor. Her stomach and body seized as the black substance continued to fall out her throat, burning as it seeped past her lips.

Her bedroom door burst open and her father knelt by her side, rubbing between her shoulder blades. "You're alright, sweetie. You're alright," he murmured, watching as the pool beneath her bed grew with each retching sound that filled the air.

The brackish taste lingered on her tongue long after her body stopped forcing it up. It was almost as bad as tasting black licorice for the first time, just ten times worse. And no matter how many times she ran her tongue against tissues to get the black stuff off the taste wouldn't go away. "What…what the hell was that?" she rasped, spitting out on the floor.

"Your body healing," Laurence replied. "Peter's claws got in deep. You were releasing the last of the bad blood in you."

"How deep?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face. "Am I going to turn into some weird…bird, fish, dog chimera _thingy_?"

Laurence chuckled and then rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. "No, that's not going to happen. The worst is over now. You should feel back to normal soon."

"Good. So I can go to Erica's." She pushed herself up with shaky arms and managed to sit up all the way. At the disapproving look on her father's face she protested, "Dad! Come on! She won't answer my texts. I've filled her voice inbox. I need to see her. I can't…" She swallowed and then gagged at the salty taste that slid back down her throat. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth she managed to utter, "She can't be mad at me." Laurence pressed his lips together. "Would you keep me from seeing Mom?"

"Of course not," he replied.

"I love Mom. And I love Erica. What's the difference?" she stressed.

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side, studying her. She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for a response. But when he finally did respond it made her body shake with a hard jolt, "I don't know. You tell me." Whoever said words couldn't be used as weapons clearly lied through their teeth.

She pulled at the thread in her pants. "You said she was going to be okay," she said, her voice harder than it was before.

"She will be."

"The thing is…if I don't talk to Erica, I'm not so sure _she_ will be." She lifted her eyes and locked them with her father's. "I'll go see Mom, I promise. Just…let me see Erica first. _Please_."

Laurence placed his hands on his knees and stood. He held onto his daughter's gaze for a minute longer before turning around and leaving the room, his arms crossed over his chest. She listened as he moved through the house, headed downstairs, paused to say something to Nova, and then walked out the front door. It closed with a nearly silent click and then she heard the distinct sound of his SUV starting up before that, too, faded into the distance.

She reached past the puddle of black goo on the ground and grabbed her phone, checking the screen again. Still no answered texts. Swiping across the screen with her thumb, she paused at the picture on her home screen of her and Erica wearing Minnie Mouse ears and making faces at the camera. Forcing her thumb, she tapped it against her messenger app and waited for it to load. Maybe she had missed a reply earlier? But her shoulders sagged when she saw that nothing new had come in. Erica's name was still third on the list of contacts on her phone that she had recently texted. Stiles was at the top, telling her that he was okay and Scott was beneath it echoing his friend's statement in the same short message. As much as she wanted to go and talk to them, and kick them in the asses for being such boys, she knew it had to wait.

She jumped in the shower and changed into a simple pair of jean shorts, a graphic tee, a light jacket, and her bright blue doc martens and did her best to clean up the mess on the floor. She was glad to have hardwood rather than carpet or else it would have been a nightmare to clean. Scrubbing black vomit off the ground wasn't at the top of her list of things to do; scrubbing it out of carpet was even lower.

She made sure to feed Nova and put him up in his kennel before leaving the house and jumping into her truck. She whirled around only to pause when she noticed her lacrosse bag on the back seat. Her fingers curled into the headrest of the passenger seat at the sight of it. She clenched her jaw, feeling a muscle twitch before pressing on the gas and reversing out of her driveway.

It didn't take long for her to get to Erica's house, she was just glad no police officer's were out or else she was sure she would have been pulled over. She barely had the car in park when she flung the door open and jumped out. Stuffing her keys in her pocket, she approached the front door but then paused. Tilting her head back, she looked up at Erica's window, clicked her tongue once, and then backed up. Rolling her shoulders she then did a running start and jumped.

To her surprise, she soared higher in the air than she expected and landed on the roof in front of Erica's window with ease. She looked over her shoulder at the ground and then down at the roof beneath her. If she weren't so afraid of falling off she would have clicked her heels in the air. She made a mental note to do it later and climbed in through the window.

"Why can't you knock like a normal person?" Erica asked from her bed, pausing in her sewing. In one hand was a needle, gleaming in the sunlight, and the other was a mass of red fabric.

"Uh…I don't think I fit into the category of a normal person," Melanie replied, tumbling in through the window. Her cheeks were still flushed red from jumping up onto the roof with ease. "You're talking to me?"

Erica resumed her sewing. "Why wouldn't I be?" It was a simple question but it was loaded. Melanie could practically see Erica's finger twitching on a trigger, waiting to pull it.

"…You know."

"If you're referring to how you ditched me, I would stop talking to you if I was surprised but…I'm not."

Melanie sat on the edge of Erica's bed, wringing her hands together. "I didn't do it on purpose." Erica snorted. "Eri, c'mon. It's me. I wouldn't leave you alone like that if it weren't for a really good reason."

"You could have called me."

"I…I couldn't." _Partially because I was dying in the locker room, like what always happens on a normal day._

"Why? What was so important?" Erica dropped her hands into her lap, her words clipped. Melanie winced at the cold tone that latched onto her words. "Wait, don't tell me. Scott needed something? Or maybe Stiles. Lydia? Allison? Oh, no, maybe Isaac needed your attention. Because all of them are more important than me, right?"

"Of course not! I just…I can't help that I have a lot of friends," Melanie replied. Then her nose wrinkled and she said, "Okay, calling Lydia and Allison my friend is a _bit_ of a stretch. Lydia's just…_Lydia_ and Allison…. I mean, I don't _not_ like her it's just…Jesus! She's so good at _everything_! Like, geeze, can't she be bad at _one_ thing? Just one, so I know she's human? Pick her nose and eat it, maybe?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "Stop using that excuse! I know you have other friends. I get it. I'm happy that you have other friends, because then they see what I see in you."

"I'm not replacing you, if that's what you think. No one could ever replace you, Erica."

"How about Isaac?" Melanie eyebrow's crinkled. "You keep…inviting him to stuff that we had already planned. It's not that I don't like him, he seems like a nice guy, but I want to spend time with just you."

"I'm trying to keep him out of his house!" Melanie insisted. "You've heard the rumors. What if they're true? What if his dad is actually hitting him? I can't…I can't just let him go back there and wait for the bomb to go off."

"It's not your problem, Mel!" Erica pointed out, her cheeks reddening by the second due to the force in her voice. "You can't save everyone."

"Why can't I try?" Melanie demanded. "If I can help someone have a good point in their day, what's so bad about that? I always do it for you!"

"Oh my god!" In a huff, Erica threw her sewing kit and the fabric aside and grabbed at her hair. "Am I your friend or your charity case? 'Cause sometimes, I can't tell the difference. Who are you doing a favor for, for being my friend? Me? 'Cause if that's the case I'd rather be alone than have a friend like that."

Melanie felt as if she had been punched in the gut or stabbed with the needle that Erica had been holding. She may as well have been as she stared at her friend. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to go see Eric and apologize and they would go back to normal and look forward to the upcoming formal. Why wasn't everything going back to normal? Why wasn't it working this time? Why wasn't anything working?

"Where's-where's this coming from?" Melanie asked, her inquiry laced with confusion. "Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?"

Erica snorted. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes looked off into the distance as she shook her head. "It's not all of a sudden; you just haven't been paying attention."

"Is this still about that whole Lydia thing?"

Huffing, Erica flopped back against her pillows. "It's bigger than that, Mel."

"Then explain it to me 'cause I can't read your mind, Eri. I don't know what's bothering you."

"You used to be able to tell." She brushed her nose against her arm and when Erica spoke again her words were thick with controlled emotion. "You used to know everything about me. You could tell when I was upset and what upset me but now it's like you're always preoccupied."

Melanie gathered up her hair and pulled it to the other side of her neck. She rubbed at her eyes and briefly pressed her palms into them. This couldn't be happening. Not now. She didn't need something else piling up on her plate, it was already too top heavy.

"Okay, if it's more attention you want—"

"That's not it!" She pressed her fist into her mouth for a brief moment and then continued, "You know, we shouldn't be friends." A sad sort of smile appeared on her face. "We don't like the same things. Not all of them, anyway. We used to hate each other, remember?"

"Yeah. You kept saying that the Backstreet Boys were better than *NSYNC and I threw mud at you for it," Melanie recalled. "But then your mom brought out sugar cookies and purple Kool-Aid and we stopped fighting."

"Our moms kept making us have play dates and eventually we found things we had in common: favorite movies, TV shows, belief in things, laughing at stupid things. The rest, well, we couldn't be more different." She shook her head and swallowed. "My mom used to say we were like the sun and the moon. Two different entities but needed to form something whole. I didn't get it before but it makes sense now. You're the push I need to do something I normally wouldn't and I stop you from going completely off the walls. You protect me and I support you. But that's the problem. You protect me."

"I…Erica, how's that a bad thing?"

"I don't want to be protected! I don't want you to always have to watch over me. I don't want you to keep checking if I'm taking my medicine or eating right or…or constantly have to build me up like it's your job."

"It's not—"

Erica held up her hand. "Let me finish, please!" She sucked in a hard breath through her nose and let it out. "I don't like knowing that I can't control anything. That I can't be normal. That I constantly need you and my mom to look after me like I'm some…sick kid. Because when you do that, you dismiss me."

"Okay, _that's_ not true!" Melanie protested. She could feel a burning prickle at the back of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to try and get it to go away. But it was hard when Erica was unloading on her, and she sucked up all the pain and hurt that Erica was unleashing.

"It is and you know it! You've always done it. Whenever I'm upset about something or something bothers me, you keep telling me I'm silly or that I don't know what I'm talking about or that I'm worried about nothing. It's _not_ nothing to me. Seeing you running off with Scott and Stiles all the time? Hanging out with Allison? Letting Lydia put makeup on you? They're small, yes, to _you_. These things…they hurt me. And you don't care."

"Yes I _do!_" Melanie burst out, the tears now falling down her face, leaving fresh tracks behind. "Erica, you're my best friend. I always care about you. I don't…I didn't even notice I was…" She brushed her arm across her eyes, her skin smearing the tears. "The only thing I've been trying to do is get you to become the Erica I know you can be. You're so funny and smart and awesome but _you_ don't believe it. That's all I was trying to do, get you to believe it."

"But sometimes I don't want to! Sometimes I just want you to listen to me and accept how I feel! You and my mom…you both don't get the other side of what you do."

"I'm only trying to help," Melanie pointed out, her voice a whimper.

"What's helpful to you doesn't always help me," Erica replied, her voice shook as well. "I'm not fragile. I'm epileptic. That's _all._ I can still do things. I'm not my condition but no one lets me forget that I have it. Especially you. That's not what my friend is supposed to do. She's supposed to support me—" Erica held up her finger to keep Melanie from protesting—"_without_ the pity."

Any other protest that tried to come out of her mouth died before they formed. What was the point? Erica's mind was made and that sucked. No, it _hurt_. She and Erica had fought before but this wasn't a normal fight. Erica actually thought that Melanie sucked as a friend. She grabbed at her hair and shook her head. This couldn't be happening! All she ever wanted was for Erica to like herself, but all she did was make her hate herself.

What kind of friend _was_ she?

"Why…why are you bringing this up now?" Melanie asked, her voice small. The echo bounced around in the chasm that formed between them.

"You didn't show up." Erica shrugged, wiping her own eyes. "Didn't take much for the camel's back to break. Had years of shit piling up."

Melanie twisted her fingers together, squeezing her eyes tight to ebb the flow of her tears. "D'you want to know why I didn't show up?"

"You had something better to do?" Erica guessed.

Melanie didn't miss the bitterness in her voice but continued. "No. It's…" she paused. She knew what she wanted to do. She knew it was the right thing to do. But would Erica believe her? Her claims had been dismissed in the pat as mere fairytales but they were as real as the ache in her chest. She didn't know what she'd do if Erica didn't believe her but she had to try anyway. She had to give Erica the truth for once. "It's…because I almost died last night."

Erica's brown eyes narrowed. Melanie could see suspicion and a little bit of concern in her eyes and wished it were the other way around but beggars couldn't be choosers. "…What?"

"I was in the locker room after the game. After I showered I was going to meet you but then someone was in there." Melanie wiped her palms on her legs and then crossed them; shifting so she wouldn't fall off the bed. "Some guy. No! Don't worry, he didn't try to…y'know," she added at the widening of Erica's eyes. "But he kept saying that I didn't know what I was. And then he attacked me. With claws." At the incredulous look forming on Erica's face she sped through the rest of her explanation, "He scratched up my back real bad. I thought I was dying. My dad saved me with some help. I wanted to come see you but my dad wouldn't let me. And he told me…there was a reason why I was attacked."

"Wait, what? Why would someone want to attack _you_?" Erica asked.

Melanie licked her lips and swallowed, her toes curling over the edge of the cliff. She brought her thumb up to her teeth and bit down. Her eyes dropped to gaze at the depths of the fall beneath her and only when Erica slid her hand in hers did she look up. Erica's gaze, now softened, moved over her, as if searching for something. Releasing a sigh, she gripped Erica's hand tighter and stepped over the edge.

"Because…I'm a siren," Melanie replied.

Erica froze for a second. Her eyes narrowed even further and her lips parted. Then she laughed and took her hand away. Melanie's fingers curled against the empty space. "Yeah, right. Come on, Mel, can't you be serious for once?"

"I _am!_" Melanie insisted. "I swear to you, Erica, I'm not making this up."

She waved her hand away and climbed off the bed, pacing. "This is just like all your other stories. Like Harris and Scott. You can't get out of me being mad at you!" She scoffed. "Seriously, trying to make me feel guilty over something you did?"

"Erica Nicole Reyes, why the _hell_ would I lie about being attacked by someone?" Melanie shouted, jumping to her feet. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I don't know!" She threw her arms into the air. "I don't know, Mel. It's pretty sick of you to do."

"Does this sound like something I'd do to you? Really, Eri? Think long and hard about that. You can't really believe that."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, frankly." Erica crossed her arms, her shifting weight causing one hip to pop out at the side.

Melanie's mouth turned to the side. "Do you believe that I love you?" Erica's head cocked to the side. "That I care about you? That I only want you to be happy? That I want you to see yourself the way I do? That I would never lie about something like this? Because part of me finds this _super_ cool and I wanted to share it with my friend but the other part is super confused about it all and I have no idea what to do and all I wanted to do was talk to my best friend. …If I can still call you that."

Erica's hands brushed her sides when she dropped them. Her head rolled to the other side and her brown eyes moved as if searching Melanie from head to toe. Melanie held her breath, waiting. Her fingers twitched by her side. _You have to believe me, Erica. You _have_ to…_

"You're a siren," she finally stated.

Melanie nodded. "It would explain a lot."

"It would," Erica agreed. "So…what can you do?"

"Uhm. That I don't know yet. Besides swim and sing, but Dad says singing has nothing to do with it."

"Interesting." She went back to her bed and pulled her comforter down, rolling the fabric up at the bottom. She sat down atop of her sheet and reached beneath her bed, pulling out her laptop. Once it was set up on the bed she then reached for her glasses on the nightstand, gave her head a shake to move the hair out of the way, and then put them on, lifting them up her nose with her index finger.

"What are you doing?"

Erica didn't reply at first, the silence between them filled with her rapid tapping on her keyboard. But when she did there was a determination in her voice she hadn't heard in a while. "You know about creatures and stuff from books you've read. When they're not basic encyclopedias they only cover Classical Mythology. Well, there are many different mythologies out there and it'll take too long to go to the library to find books." She chuckled. "Thank God for Google."

Emitting a very Erica-like squeal, Melanie jumped onto the bed and hugged Erica tight. She let out a large sigh of relief now that her chest was free of the weight that sat upon it. One of them, anyway. But it was enough to get her breathing again. Enough to get her heart beating again. It was a bit more rapid of a heartbeat than usual but she chalked it up to being excited about Erica helping her out. Easy.

**_# # #_**

It was dark by the time Melanie left Erica's house. Her eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen for so long but it was worth it, leaving with her friendship intact and with more information in her glove box than she ever could have found on her own. She swore Erica even hacked into some protected network at one point just to find some information. She knew Erica was smart in some areas but that was eye opening. "I need to do something to fill my free time," she had said coupled with a nonchalant shrug.

She waved out the window to Erica standing on the front porch and pulled out of the driveway in one swift motion, cringing when she ran over the curb. She tapped the horn twice and drove down the road, the sound of the tires crunching over the driveway infiltrated the music that poured out of her windows.

The crisp night air caressed her face as she rode down the street. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel and bopped her head along to the bouncy song that played. As she came to a stop at the end of the street her phone vibrated in the cup holder and she saw her father's name come up on the screen. She checked the screen and saw that he had left a text, asking her to come home so they could talk. She was about to reply to the text when her eyes caught sight of Stiles's name on her list. Her thumbs hovered over the buttons and then she hummed. Backing out of his message, she selected the last conversation she had with Stiles and then typed in response to him.

**Mel:** _I'm coming over. Need to talk to you. Important!_

Stiles replied almost immediately. Her phone buzzed in her hand, making her jump and accidentally hit the horn. "Geeze, attached to your phone there buddy?" she commented beneath her breath and opened his response.

**Stiles:** _Well who can argue with that argument?_

She could almost feel the sarcasm oozing from his words. Rolling her eyes, she set her phone down and took a left hand turn instead of a right. The entire drive to the Stilinski house, she had her thumbnail wedged between her teeth. By the time she arrived the top had been chewed and she was spitting bits out onto the floor of her truck.

"Geeze, Stiles, you couldn't give me a head's up that everything was fine with you? No text? No call? After you were gone last night?" Melanie ranted as soon as he opened the door. She barged past him and began pacing. "Dear _God_, Stiles, so much shit went down! Why weren't you at the game? We won, by the way. It was a near shutout but a lot of people got hurt in the process. It's just…geeze, so much stuff! Can I come in?"

Stiles looked at her as if she were crazy, which she probably thought would be a fair assessment, as he closed the door. "You're already _in_," he pointed out.

"I am?" Melanie then looked around, noting the entry way and the kitchen nearby. "Huh. Didn't notice. Anyway!" She reached out and slapped him on the arm with the back of her hand. "_Where were you?_"

"Ow! God, woman, put down the claws!" he grumbled, rubbing his arm. "I was looking into something." Grasping the inside of her arm, he pulled her along with him to the stairs and then up to his room. Only once the door was closed and he rubbed his hand over his mouth did he speak again. "Do you remember that night in school? When we were attacked?"

"Yeah, I've had nightmares," Melanie replied, dropping down onto his bed. She picked up a shirt off the end of it and began to fold it.

Stiles faltered at her blunt answer but quickly kept going. "Remember that text Allison was talking about? She said that Scott had texted her but it wasn't him. He wouldn't have asked her to come to the school with the Alpha running around. So after school I tried to find who sent it."

She put the shirt aside. Now he was saying something interesting. "And?" she asked, her eyebrows widening. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, with Danny's help I—"

"How'd you get Danny to help you? Danny hates you," Melanie pointed out.

"I don't need you to tell me that," Stiles replied, causing her to give a snort-like laugh. "And I kinda used Derek as bait."

"Ooh, good call. I don't blame Danny for that. Not one bit." A smirk slowly began to appear on Melanie's face as her eyes turned to look off in the distance but it fell almost instantly when Stiles made a noise of disbelief. "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Continue."

"_Anyway_! We traced the call and the text came from Scott's mom." Melanie's face pulled to one side and she had to shake her head to get enough space to even entertain the idea that _Mrs. McCall_ sent the text. "Yeah, I know. We thought it was weird too so Derek and I went to the hospital to check it out. Well, we found the Alpha instead. Surprise! It's Derek's uncle, Peter! The burn victim!"

The last time he had told her news about a Hale she hadn't reacted in the way he expected and she knew it let the wind out of his sails. Despite already knowing this, she pretended to be shocked for his sake. "What!? No way! What happened?"

"Well, Peter has a few anger issues so he tried to attack me. Derek tired to hold him off but, y'know being an Alpha, Peter was stronger than him. Long story short, they're now working together and they're trying to get Scott to join his pack because Scott's his beta."

"Scott's not going to do it, is he?" Her teeth pulled against her lower lip and her fingers pulled on the hem of her shirt. He couldn't go with a guy like that! He just couldn't!

"No, he's not, thankfully," Stiles replied. "But Peter's not going to let that go. I can tell. Seems like a Hale trait, holding grudges and being all…broody." He pulled a face and then sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I almost died over a lacrosse game. What a trade."

"About that, I'm sorry Stiles, I had to go in for you," Melanie spoke up. Stiles blinked. "I didn't want to. Coach made me. I didn't want to take your spot but we were down a lot of people. He was desperate, apparently. It was your first chance at First Line, you should have been playing. Please don't be mad at me."

"Be mad at…?" He shook his head and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a little shake. "Mels, you've always wanted to play on the team. You got the chance! You shouldn't worry about me. I'll get another chance to play again, hopefully. And from what I hear, you were pretty good. Enjoy your moment, don't let me ruin it. There'll be other games. Like the away game next week." When her expression didn't change he shook her shoulders again. "Come on, give me a smile. Give me a smile. You can do better than that. Oh! Oh! _There_ it is!" He lifted his hands to her face and used his thumbs to pull her lips upwards. "Relax, I'm not mad."He dropped his hands. "You said you wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah." She clasped her hands together and dropped them onto her lap. "After the game…I was attacked. By…Peter."

"By Peter…? Why didn't you say anything? Are you okay? Does Scott know?"

"No, I haven't told him yet. I didn't want him to worry. Or you. And…I'm still trying to process some stuff."

"Like what?"

She took a deep breath and told him what happened. Well, part of it. How Peter had attacked her after the game, had alluded to her being something, had tried to kill her until her father intervened. She explained how he then revealed what she was and how there were different types and that Peter, or any other bad werewolf, would come after her again because of something she could do. She would have added in Dr. Deaton and his position in the supernatural world but she kept quiet. That was his secret to tell.

"Wait, okay, let me get this straight. You're a…a siren," Stiles said after his brief lapse of speechlessness. "And your dad is a siren. So you're half siren."

"Right." Melanie nodded.

"And there are two different types of sirens but you don't know which one you are. But either way, you're something that werewolves would want to kill."

"Right."

"So why hasn't Scott tried to kill you? Or Derek?"

"They don't know what I am. Peter's the only one who seemed to have a clue. I guess he…smelled me, or something? I don't know. Scott _is_ new to the whole wolf thing, so he probably wouldn't know what to look for. As for Derek…he's less of a psycho? I dunno."

"Yeah, well, him being less of a psycho still isn't the best thing we can hope for." Stiles rubbed his hands over his short hair and blew out a breath, his lips vibrating. "Okay, well, does your mom know?"

Melanie shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. Haven't talked to her."

He blinked. "You still haven't seen her?"

She shook her head. "I've kinda been busy trying not to die."

"Well, you're with me now. Why don't I take you to the hospital and—"

"No," she protested. "We're going to find Scott and tell him what's going on."

"You can call him."

"I can call my mom too, what's your point?"

"My _point_ is that you should probably go see her. I'm sure she wants to see you. Wants you there with her. And your dad. Wants your family there. It sucks being in hospitals alone. Trust me." He raised his fist to his mouth, blocking it as he coughed to clear his throat, his eyes moving to a picture on his bedside table. "You get scared. Waiting for some sort of news. Any sort. All you see…are people walking up and down the halls, minding their own business. Because things are going according to plan to them. But, unbeknownst to them, around them someone else's world is falling apart at the seams." He picked up the picture and ran his thumb over it before handing it to her.

Melanie stared down at the Stilinski family from seven years ago. With their bright smiles and sparkling eyes and tight hold around one another. He looked like his mom, with the same mouth, the same eyes, the same button nose. She was a beauty with cascading chocolate-colored hair and kind eyes that made anyone they rested on feel loved. Stiles absolutely adored her; she remembered him talking about her all the time. And then when she passed it was almost as if a part of him had died too.

"…The thing is, with the hurricane surrounding you, there's always going to be a point where the eye passes over." Stiles pulled at his fingers, moving to the next one when he heard a satisfying pop. "The point where you decide to fight back, see things for what it's worth, or turn the other way. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but it's not. Ignorance does nothing but make the pain stick worse when you're forced to stop running. It's a bitch, really."

"You know…I don't like it when people are down or upset about something. Because I know that they can get through it. After all, they've made it to this very moment. This point in time, they've made it through many things they thought they wouldn't be able to get through. They're so strong. And they're _here_. "

"Right…"

"I keep telling them that it's alright, it's all going to be okay, and everything will work out…." She clicked her tongue, running her thumb over the edge of the frame in her hands. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"…How come no one ever says it to me?" She turned her blue eyes over to him which was filled with an ocean of unrestrained sadness. "I need to hear it sometimes. How come no one ever tells me it's going to be okay? Why does everybody else get to hear it but not me?" She sucked in a breath and once she let it out it was shaky. Her fingers gripped the picture frame so hard her knuckles turned white. "My mom is in the hospital and…and I can't see her because I'm too fucking mad at her. I'm too mad at my mom to see her and people keep telling me that _she'll_ be okay…but I don't think _I_ will be. My mom tried to _kill_ herself, Stiles. Am I supposed to just accept that? She tried to…to leave this world. Something happened that she didn't think she could keep going and couldn't get through it and just wanted it all to end. My _mom_. And then I get pissed at myself for being concerned about people not caring about my feelings on the matter and being a selfish asshole and…_grrrrr_."

"You're not an asshole, so you can stop that right there," Stiles said, his voice firm. "No one can make you feel guilty for the way you react to things. And guess what?"

"What?" She held the picture frame out to him. He took it and carefully set it back down on his table. He dropped on the bed next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

"Everything will be okay," he told her.

She cracked a small smile. "Thanks, Piles."

"You're welcome, Smells." He hugged her to his side again only to withdraw his arm when his phone rang. Frowning at the screen, he pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey Scott, what's up?" His once jovial tone turned as he yelled into the phone and jumped to his feet, nearly knocking Melanie over in the process. "Okay, I'm on it. Don't worry." He jabbed the screen with his thumb in a rapid attempt to hang up.

"What's up?" Melanie asked, all traces of previous dismay washing off as her heart revved up.

"It's Scott's mom. She's on a date with Peter!"

"_What_!?"

"I know! Let's go! We have to stop them!"

Melanie scrambled to her feet and was hot on Stiles's heels as they ran out of the house. She haphazardly crawled and dove in through the window of the passenger side door in an attempt to save time by opening the door. She ended up looking like a bug in the process.

"Don't say a word, just drive," she said to Stiles as she rolled over, nearly kicking him in the head.

Muttering something beneath his breath, he buckled himself in and pulled on the gearshift. The jeep shuddered to life and with a loud grinding sound it started forward. Melanie righted herself and buckled into the seat. Her wind whipped around her face as Stiles raced forward.

"Do we even know where they're going?" Stiles asked.

"They just left so let's go to Scott's house and see if we pass them and then follow them," she suggested.

At those words, Stiles wrenched the wheel to take a hard turn, slamming her into the door. He threw out a quick apology and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, surging them forward. His jaw clenched and a rosy tint settled in his cheeks. She drummed her fingers against the windowsill, her eyes trained on the illuminated road ahead of them. _Oh, please let us make it there in time. Please. Please._

She closed her eyes as she repeated that wish in her head, almost chanting. Her fingers wrapped around the cool pendant that hung around her neck. Colors swam in front of her eyes and a dull ache settled in her head. Her nose wrinkled and she squeezed tighter. The reds and oranges melded into a light purple while the blues and greens faded away. The black and the purple swirled and danced around one another and the ache in her head grew stronger.

"Stiles," she grunted.

"We're almost there. I think we can catch them."

Her fingers gripped the windowsill tighter. "_Stiles!_" The black faded away and the purple took its place, a subtle hue that brightened by the second. Her head pounded and a wave of nausea crashed around inside her. She swore her skull was going to split open any second.

"What?" His voice got louder; she could practically see him turning his head to look at her.

"Something's wrong!" Finally her eyes snapped open and a violet haze filled her vision. But, instead of seeing the road as she expected she saw a cell phone. Delicate hands turning a cell phone over and over, playing with it out of nerves.

"What do you mean something's wro…_whoa!_ Your eyes are purple!"

"I-I'm seeing something. Someone playing with their cell phone. I…I can feel their nerves." Melanie's chest heaved with her heavy breaths. She swallowed, trying to calm herself down but the anxiety spread through her like spilled water.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I think…I'm seeing what someone else is seeing," she whispered. "But I can't…I can't tell who it is."

"Well, what else are you seeing? Landmarks? Road signs? Anything?"

Melanie shook her head, her violet eyes moving as if searching for something to land on. "No, just the cell phone. They're bringing up a map. I think they're lost. …They're trying to find a restaurant." She squinted and watched as the hands typed in something in the Google search bar. — "Firebelly! They're looking for Firebelly!"

"That grill in town?"

"Yeah. I think…wait…" Melanie's body seized with the hard gasp she inhaled once her vision turned and she saw the companion. "Peter!"

"You see Peter?"

"In the car!" Melanie reached out, her hands fumbling over the center console until they brushed the sleeve of Stiles' plaid shirt and dug her fingers into it. "I…Stiles, I'm seeing what Ms. Melissa is seeing. She's with Peter! They're parked on the side of the road somewhere. He said something… She's nervous. I can feel that she's nervous."

"Where are they? C'mon, Mel, where are they?"

"I don't know! I'm…I'm trying!" Sweat beaded at her hairline. Pain thumped in her temples and she swallowed hard to keep the bile down. She sucked in a breath, waiting for the eyes to turn back and…ah ha! "Her GPS is on! The location…" Her eyebrows furrowed and she gritted her teeth. _Come on, come on, where are they…?_ Melissa's eyes rested on the phone again and Melanie pushed a hissing breath out from between her teeth. "Delaney Street!" She blurted out.

Pain exploded in her head and she felt all energy draining from her, causing her to slump in her seat. The seat-belt caught her and as she took in another large breath the violet in her vision disappeared. The street in front of them was illuminated with the high beams from Stiles' jeep and the steady blinking of his hazard lights. They had pulled over to the side of the road.

"Are you okay?" Stiles started to turn away from the steering wheel but she increased her grip on his shirt.

"I'm alright," she replied, the nausea still flowing around inside her. The sweat made her bangs stick to her forehead, irritating the skin. She didn't have the strength to scratch. "I'm alright. Just go. They're on Delaney Street. We still have time to save Ms. Melissa."

"Right, got it," Stiles replied, jabbing his finger in the hazard lights button and stomping his foot on the gas pedal. The sudden lurch didn't help her nausea some but she didn't care. She could stick her head out the window and pray that the cool air would calm her down later.

Ms. Melissa was more important.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - **Well, this chapter turned out muuuuuuuuuch longer than I intended. I was going to break it up at one point but then I decided against it since it's all so important! What did you think of the scene with Peter? And Erica unloading everything on Melanie? And her talk with Stiles? I love writing the two together, there's something about them sharing vulnerability regarding their families I find sweet. Their relationship is just fun to write. Now, her powers! We finally learn that she's a siren, yay! But she's going to have many challenges in her way trying to figure out which one she is and how she fits in the world of the supernatural.**

**Originally I was going to have her join Allison and Lydia with the archery scene in the wood and have Melanie's eyes react to the flash-bomb arrowhead but I had to take it out for pacing reasons. I may include it later in a deleted scenes/one-shot collection thing for this story later. Lord knows I have a lot of them.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! You have an away lacrosse game and the formal in up coming chapters to look forward too. More Jackson, Danny, and Isaac will be brought in as well. Please read and review!**

**~C.M.**


	21. Walking in a Horrible Dreamland

**_Chapter 21: Walking in a Horrible Dreamland_**

"Can this hunk of junk go any faster?" Melanie asked. She didn't even bother to hide the apprehension in her words; if it could get Stiles to move any faster she would flash him but she only suspected that would cause them to get in a wreck and the last thing she wanted to explain to his dad _and_ hospital staff is the reason behind them getting injured.

Stiles's widened eyes, carrying massive amounts of offense in them, turned to her. "Hey, you're not exactly riding around in a treasure either!" he pointed out. He barely flipped on the turn signal before jerking the wheel and send them barreling around a corner. Melanie had to grab onto the door handle to keep from tumbling over into his lap.

"My truck doesn't take an hour to get from twenty to forty-five!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh _that's_ a gross misconception."

She motioned at the speedometer. "We're still going at thirty!"

"We're in a neighborhood for crying out loud!" He shot back, almost drowning her out before she could finish her sentence. "The _last_ thing I want is a pancake for a kid on my conscience just because we're chasing after a werewolf! I have morals!"

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. Of course she didn't want to run the risk of running over a stray kid, but if there was a kid running out into the street in the middle of the night then there were bigger problems at play than them potentially squishing one.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Melanie bit her nails while Stiles rubbed his face every now and then. His eyes would bounce from the road in front of him to the street signs and back as they drove past. Her pocket buzzing made her jump in surprise, the squeak she emitted made Stiles swerve and then shoot her a look. Pulling her face down in a wince and an apology, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone to see that her father had texted her.

"Sorry, it's my dad," she relayed, brushing her hair out of her face, not that it mattered with Stiles's turns and the wind whipping her hair about it wasn't going to stay in one place. She grabbed onto the door handle when he turned again, holding onto her phone for dear life when she felt it start to slip from her fingers. "Stiles, I swear—"

"There they are!" Stiles called out, briefly taking his hand off the wheel to point.

Melanie squinted through the window of the car stopped off to the side of the road and then to the area surrounding them. The trees looked familiar, what she could see of the car interior looked familiar, the woman's hair looked familiar. "Yeah, it's them. What do we do?"

"Uh…" Stiles ran his hands on the steering wheel and drummed his fingers against it. "Okay," he finally sighed, "I'm going to hit them."

"I don't think that's a good—"

"Nope. I'm gonna do it. Hold on."

Her muscles tensed as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal, sending the car forward. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and the saliva she swallowed got stuck by the lump in her throat. The car loomed closer and she closed her eyes, waiting for impact. She barely heard it over the sound of her heart but she sure felt it. She surged forward, thankful that the seatbelt was holding her back and keeping her from slamming her forehead into the glove box. It didn't stop her phone from flying out of her hand and landing on the floor between his feet.

"Hold still," she ordered, unbuckling herself and leaning over his knees in one swift motion.

"Whoa, Mel, wait a second—" he protested from above her, trying to move. She grabbed onto his knee partially to keep him from breaking her nose and partially to steady herself as she grabbed for her phone.

"I almost got it. Just…need to inch…a little more…" she muttered, wiggling her fingers as if that was going to make her phone move closer. Turning her head to the side and sticking out her tongue, she felt the plastic brush against her fingertips. Stretching her fingers out a little further, the pads managed to get a grip and she curled her fingers in to pull it into her palm right as she heard Mrs. McCall yell out Stiles's name.

She immediately shot straight up, her hair flying out of her face as she peered out through the windshield to Mrs. McCall's angered expression. Her dark eyes slid over to Melanie and she could see the surprise fall onto her face before returning to anger. "Melanie! Both of you, get out of the car!"

Exchanging sheepish looks, Melanie and Stiles scrambled out of the jeep. She had to hold onto the door to make sure she didn't face-plant on the ground due to the drop. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and slowly worked her way around the front of the car, wringing her hands together. "Heyyyyy Ms. Melissa," she greeted her with a small wave. "What brings you out here?"

"A date," she replied, crossing her arms. "And you two?"

"Uh…we, uh, were…on our way to…the movies," she replied, her words coming out a slow drawl. Stiles didn't have to look at her like that; she was trying her best to come up with a plausible excuse. It wasn't like he could think of anything better. Actually, it was probably better that he didn't say anything…but she wasn't liking the way Mrs. McCall was looking at her now.

"Look, I'm a doctor, I know everything there is to know about raging hormones. Trust me, I'm fighting a battle of them at my own house," she stated. Stiles made an odd squeaking noise and Melanie cocked her head to the side. "Be that as it may, it's _incredibly_ dangerous for you to be…_pleasing_ Stiles while he's driving."

"Oh my God," Stiles muttered, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. Melanie's eyes bounced back and forth between the red pooling in Stiles's cheeks and the stern expression on Mrs. McCall's face. What in the world was she missing?

"You could have hurt someone! And Stiles, I know you're a teenage boy and all, but you of all people should know when and where it's the right moment to engage in such activity! Driving is _not_ one of them! You don't have to be at the same place as Scott is. …Though that's a _completely_ different conversation I'll have with him."

Melanie lightly pinched the skin on Stiles's elbow and shook his arm. "What's she talking about?"

"…This is a conversation you and your parents really should have had three years ago, Mel," Stiles muttered, rubbing a hand over his buzzed hair. He sucked in a breath, his cheeks puffing up at the effort, and blew it out. The confused expression on her face didn't leave so he huffed, rolled his eyes and whispered into her ear.

_Oh!_ Her eyes flew open and she hastily shook her head. "No! Oh, god, Ms. Melissa, I wasn't…we weren't…does he look happy to you?" She jerked her thumb in his direction and he rapidly shook his head from side to side to prove a point. "He'd be smiling like a freakin' jack-o-lantern if I…did _that_. _Which I didn't!_ I-I wouldn't do that! You have to believe me. He crashed into you 'cause he…sucks at driving."

"Thanks," she heard him utter beneath his breath but her attention had strayed to Peter Hale, who wasn't looking at them anymore; the subdued anger that he held in his face once he got out of the car was gone. She could see a hint of a smile on his face as he began to pace, his eyes moving as if searching through the darkness. But what was he looking for?

"Honestly, Ms. Melissa, I wasn't doing anything," Melanie said, now squeezing her hands together so hard they were starting to lose the color in them. She bit her lip. Mrs. McCall had to believe her, she just _had_ to. 'Casue it wasn't like she was interested in Stiles or liked him, not to that capacity, and she didn't want Scott thinking so either. Just because it wouldn't be true.

"Yeah, we're sorry we hit you. It looks like a bad bump. Maybe we could get the police involved?" Stiles continued, turning a stern gaze over to Peter who had whirled around at that moment.

"No, that won't be necessary," Peter replied, his voice as smooth as silk. "I know someone who can take a look at it." His body then turned towards Melissa but it took a few seconds for his lingering eyes to catch up, sliding from Stiles to his date. "Why don't we schedule for another day? I think it would be best to get this fixed so we don't end up broken down later."

"Are you sure?" Mrs. McCall asked, stepping towards him. "We can go somewhere closer. A diner."

Peter smiled and reached out his hand, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "That sounds wonderful, but I must insist. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything were to happen to you because I didn't get this fix. Another time."

"Okay…another time," she agreed.

Melanie shuffled forward and touched Mrs. McCall on the arm. She could feel the older woman tense beneath her touch. "Do you want us to drive you somewhere? Back to Scott's?" Her eyes flickered over to Peter who stared back at her. She swore his eyes flashed red at one point but no one else seemed to notice. She noticed the jolt in her gut like she had been standing by a speaker when someone plucked a string on a bass guitar. The nausea came back and she swallowed to try and get the ill-tasting saliva out of her mouth. "Get some ice cream, maybe?" Her lips turned up in a brief smile but it faded almost as fast as it appeared as she looked at Mrs. McCall and saw…_something_ in her eyes. Something that tugged at her heart.

"Nonsense, I can take her home," Peter replied. He put his hand on the small of Mrs. McCall's back and lead her towards the car before any of them could protest. "Might want to get those brakes checked, hmm?" he added to Stiles, scoffing at the jeep.

"Stiles, _no!_" Melanie jumped onto his back and grabbed onto his arms, leaning backwards to try and shift her weight to keep him from attacking Peter. "He could rip out your throat! Your jeep's not worth that," she said into his neck. "…I'm not sure it's worth _anything_, really."

"Ha ha! God, I just want to get my hands on that bitch," he growled, his chest heaving but he stood rooted to the spot as they watched Peter and Melissa get into the car and drive off. Only when his breathing got back to normal did she jump off his back.

Melanie brushed her hair out of her face, tugging on the end of it as she stared at the car driving off. "We're still going to follow them, right?"

"Yeah, something tells me not to trust him. I can't imagine why." Dropping his sarcastic tone he motioned for her to get back in the jeep. She climbed in and buckled up to check her phone again once she was settled. All her father had said was that they were going to talk tomorrow, about everything. She didn't know what 'everything' meant but she had a feeling she was going to have a long day.

The previous tension in the cabin of the jeep had dissipated now that they found Peter and Mrs. McCall but Stiles and Melanie sat quietly as they drove on through the night. Every now and then he would have some sort of conversation under his breath but it always petered out. Melanie, on the other hand, pulled on the end of her hair and stared out the window the entire car ride. They were lucky in being able to save Mrs. McCall in time. But would they always be that lucky? What if they couldn't get to someone in time? What if they couldn't do anything to help out those caught in the crosshairs? They were just teens. Kids even. Kids played games and tonight she got a full dose of reality of their situation: this wasn't a game.

She was buried so deep in her thoughts that it took Stiles honking her own horn for her to come crashing back to reality, finding herself sitting in the driver's seat of her truck. "Is it possible to sleepwalk with your eyes open?" she asked.

"I don't think it'd be called sleepwalking then, Mel. I think it's just called 'walking'," he pointed out. He chuckled at her quiet "oh" of realization and closed her door, resting his arms on the windowsill. "Okay, so, Scott got a crash course in all things werewolf. Now it's your turn. We can start tomorrow."

"My dad wants to talk to me tomorrow, so it'll have to be Monday," she replied, running her hands on her steering wheel. "But good luck. There's a lot of conflicting information; people still can't tell the difference between sirens and mermaids when it should be obvious considering birds and fishes are completely different species."

"Don't worry, we'll figure everything out. The Alpha, your abilities, how to cure Scott, everything."

"Can't dream this shit up, huh?" She asked, still not taking her eyes off the steering wheel in her hands. She wished she had control over it, but it seemed to be steering her life in a billion different directions and down a billion different unmarked paths that she'd rather not have to leave footprints on. It felt odd beneath her hands, the ridges where she once felt comfortable grasping now didn't fit the curl of her fingers. A mismatched glove of sorts.

"I think I'd be concerned if I came up with this stuff, honestly," Stiles commented. "This is like…if R. L. Stine and Stephen King had a kid, this is what they'd come up with."

"We should write a book." She turned to Stiles and managed a smile. "We'd be rich."

"We could call it _Teen Wolf_."

"Nah, that's stupid. Who'd pay attention to something called _Teen Wolf?_ We could think of a much better name." Their soft accompanying laughter faded into the night like a passing breeze. Biding each other a quiet goodnight, Melanie undulated her fingers in a quick wave and backed out of his driveway. The wind buffeted her face as she flew down the road on her way home. Her muscles, body, and eyelids all fell heavy and all she wanted to do was crash on her bed rather than into a tree.

She felt like a zombie as she climbed out of her car and shuffled into her house. Her feet barely lifted off the floor, her pace was slow, and her breathing had grunting qualities thrown in, especially at the sight of the dishes in the sink. Not that it surprised her to see the mountain in the sink; their diet had basically transferred over to anything they had a craving for that could be delivered in thirty minutes or less. She rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes and got to work. She hated washing dishes but it was normal, after her night normalcy sounded good.

The stack diminished and she found herself staring at a sparkly clean sink much sooner than she had wished. She looked around to see if there was anything else she could clean only for her shoulders to sag when she saw that the house otherwise was neat enough. She made the rounds on the bottom floor: checking that all windows and doors were locked, checking that all electronics were off, and peering into the night to check if red eyes stared back at her; the usual.

She opened Nova's kennel and scooped the puppy into her arms. He blinked open his eyes and yawned. "Sorry to wake you, buddy. I was just thinking that it was better if we had someone to sleep with so we're not so lonely. Is that alright with you?" Nova licked her nose and she pressed a kiss between his ears. "Thought so. Come on."

She cradled him close to her chest and jogged up the stairs to her room, her legs moving her as if she were on autopilot. She pushed her door open with her foot and set Nova down on the ground. He trotted into the darkened room and she moved straight to her lamp. She turned it on and crossed her arms over her front, grasping the hem of her shirt, and pulled it upwards.

"Uhhh…"

"_Yipes!_" she shrieked, dropping her shirt. She whirled around so fast that her hair blinded her from being able to see who her visitor was. Well, it was an intruder to be frank but it sounded less scary and horror movie-ish for her to think of them as a visitor. She slapped at her face and spat to remove her hair from her mouth and once she could see who it was sitting on her bed and petting Nova her whole body relaxed with her sigh of relief. "Geeze, Isaac, don't scare me like that!"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pushing his hand through his hair. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she took in his posture: back hunched, shoulders up to his ears, head pulled down. It was almost as if he was trying to make himself appear smaller. He continued to pet Nova but his hands shook and his words came out as wobbly has his hands. "I-I didn't mean to—I can leave. I'm sorry. I just…didn't have anywhere else to go and—I'll just go, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking…"

Melanie was by his side in a second. She took his larger hands in between hers and squeezed them, feeling his fingers twitching against her palms. His breaths hitched and he swallowed as if trying to swallow his tears. His hot breath brushed against her face as she peered at him. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He shook his head, now rocking back and forth. "No, no. I messed up. Like I…like I always do. I can't do anything right. I can't…"

"Isaac, _what_ happened?" Nova nudged their clasps hands, his wet nose smearing across their skin. He let out little whimpers as she climbed onto Isaac's lap, curling up into a ball and settling down. "Is it about your dad? Are you in trouble?"

He nodded his head once and took in a shuddering breath. "I was just…he was so _mad_. I didn't even…it wasn't that big of a deal. I was a few minutes late to work. That's all. But he just…it was my own fault." His voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes lost focus as if he were looking off in the distance. "I shouldn't have made him mad. I should have just left early…"

She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, feeling the sting of where it had split from biting it so much. It was a welcomed pain, it distracted her from the bubbling rage inside of her that made her want to go straight over to the Lahey house and give Mr. Lahey a piece of her mind. And maybe a piece of her fist if she felt zealous enough.

"Did he hurt you? Isaac…did he hit you?" She still held onto his hands but her eyes searched every inch of visible skin for a new mark, a fist sized bruise, a fingernail length scratch. Something. A_nything_.

"No, he doesn't do that," Isaac denied, pulling his hands out of hers. "I know what people say at school…they're just rumors. They aren't true. My dad…he doesn't do that. He…he loves me." Her heart hurt hearing him utter those words. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her. Like he tasted the words on his tongue for the first time and was trying to get acclimated to it.

"Love is apologizing, Isaac," she pointed out, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't trust herself speaking at full volume. Rumors or not, she just couldn't fathom that someone would turn their kid into…into _this_. A sad, scared, shell of a boy who turned his back on a world that he deserved so much more from.

He swallowed, the audible gulp amplified in the quiet room. His leg bounced on the ground in such quick succession that it made the mattress vibrate. "I just…I think he needs space. I dunno. I-I can go, I barged in. I'm sorry. I—"

"Okay for one, you can stop apologizing," she interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm. "And two, it's fine if you stay. In fact, I insist." She gave his arm and squeeze and then got to her feet.

"What about your dad?"

"He's at the hospital. I'll go get some of his clothes for you to change into. You look about the same size. Are you hungry?" He started to open his mouth but she continued speaking before he could ever utter a sound. "Doesn't matter, I'll make you something anyway. I think we still have some left over lasagna. You like lasagna right? Who'm I kidding, who _doesn't_ like lasagna? Okay, you wait here and I'll be right back."

She darted out of the room and headed straight for her parents' bedroom, stopping at the doorway as if she had hit a brick wall. Her breath stopped for a second as she peered into the dark room. Was this where her mother was when she tried to…? She licked her lips and swallowed as a jolt of realization hit her that she still didn't know the whole story. Was her dad around when it happened? Was he the one who found her? Were they still at the restaurant or had they made it back home first?

She flicked on the light switch and peered inside. Everything was in the same place as she had last seen it. In fact, nothing seemed to have been touched at all. The plate with crumbs from her mother's cheesecake still sat on her nightstand, her mother's robe still lay across the foot of the bed, her father's shoes still lay haphazardly on the floor, and the newspaper still lay open to a half-finished Sudoku puzzle. How could everything keep on moving but this room stayed frozen in time? She swallowed the sour tasting saliva that collected in her mouth and went in search for clothes that would fit Isaac.

She finally decided on an old pair of lounge pants and an old t-shirt that she was sure her dad wouldn't miss. She stopped by her room, handing the clothes over to Isaac who muttered a quiet "thanks" and closed the door behind her. She then went downstairs, flipping on lights as she went, and made a beeline for the refrigerator and grabbed the lasagna that was leftover. She popped it into the microwave and drummed her fingers on her arms as she waited, pacing back and forth across the linoleum. She stopped the countdown before it reached the ending time and pulled out the steaming food. She grabbed a couple of forks, grabbed cookies from the pantry, and headed back upstairs, turning the lights out on her way back up.

"Da da da _da!_ Steaming hot lasagna and for dessert, _Oreos!_" Melanie gushed as she pushed back into the room. She dropped the package at the foot of the bed and curled up against the mountain of pillows. "What are you still doing up? You should be asleep," she added, leaning forward to bop her nose against Nova's who was once again sitting in Isaac's lap. "He really likes you," she noted, holding a fork out to him. "You can't take him home, though. I'll search your pants if you try to stuff him there."

"You'll search my _pants?_" he repeated with a bewildered laugh.

"Don't think I won't," she warned, waving her fork in his face. She cut off a piece of lasagna and popped it into her mouth, only to roll it from side to side when it burnt her tongue. "Boundaries don't exist to me. Ask Erica."

"I think I can tell," he commented, cutting off a slice himself. He chewed and swallowed, a thoughtful look on his face. As much as she wanted to jump on it she pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out anything that came to her mind. But the suppression only made her fidget. How did everyone else have such strong filters? How did it not bother them to have to keep quiet? Was there something that she missed obtaining as she grew in the womb? "Thank you."

"Oh, it's no big deal." She waved her hand. "Doesn't take long to heat this stuff up and my dad has so many clothes, I don't think he's worn it all."

He shook his head. "No. I mean…for this. Not kicking me out. Letting me crash. Just…having someone there." He poked around at the lasagna a few times before cutting another piece off. "It's…it's nice."

She hummed. "Should have started talking to you earlier."

He bobbed his head from side to side as he shrugged. "Well…someone's talking to me. So…that's fine."

Melanie cut her own piece of food and held out her fork. His blond brows crinkled for a second but when she motioned with her fork his confusion lifted and he tapped his fork against hers. They then took a bite and smiled around their forks. They ate in comfortable silence which was interrupted every now and then by Nova's loud snores.

"Soooo, you and Erica," Isaac spoke up. Melanie turned her questioning eyes over to him, stopping in mid chew. "You're friends?"

"Yeahhhh," she replied, stretching out the word. She didn't know how he wouldn't have noticed that. Hell, a blind monkey could have noticed that.

"Just friends?"

"Yeah. Why?"

He shrugged. "Just asking." He was silent for a moment and she thought that was the end of that strange and sudden conversation when he added, "'Cause, y'know, it'd be kinda hot…if you two were…"

"You're such a boy!" she said with a laugh, shaking her head. "Erica and I can't just be friends?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying it'd be hot if you two were together, that's all."

"And I think it'd be hot if Jackson and Danny kissed but you don't see me just blurting that out to them," Melanie replied, indignant. "Jackson'd probably hit me and for one thing and Danny'd probably be repulsed. I mean, not that I blame him. Jackson _is_ attractive but his personality fucks that up. Don't know how Lydia managed to not puke making out with him. I mean, damn, his lips are as thin as a lizard's." She jammed another forkful of food into her mouth only to shift it to the side with her tongue when she noticed the way Isaac was looking at her; his lips were a thin line as he tried to hold in a laugh. "What? I can't be the only one who's thought of it."

"I think you are because I've definitely never thought of that," he replied.

She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "So you've thought of Erica and I being together but you've never put much stock in Danny and Jackson being together?"

"Nope. Jackson's not Danny's type," he replied, as if the notion were obvious.

"Ah." She nodded her head and pursed her lips. "What about Scott and Stiles. Ever think about that?"

He grunted. "Yeah. They're both really weird. A bit too weird, really. Too weird for each other, anyway. Besides, isn't Scott into Allison? And Stiles into Lydia? They're both out of their leagues. Not that I blame Stiles for Lydia."

"Wait!" Melanie gasped, sitting up straighter and turning sideways to face him. Her eyes were wide and a smile split her face. "You like _Lydia?_"

"_Liked_," he corrected, "And it was for a split second. I asked her out two years ago but she said to ask again when my bike gets a motor." He sighed. "I dunno, I just thought…asking her out would make my dad proud, I guess."

"How?" She set the plate and her fork down and propped her chin in her palms as if she were watching a riveting movie. "It's just Lydia."

"But she's the most popular girl in our grade," he explained. "So, I figured if got a date with her…maybe he wouldn't be angry with me for once."

The smile slowly slid off her face. She twisted her mouth to the side and tugged on a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. "Why is your dad so angry?" she ventured to ask.

His eyes moved from her to look out at the wall opposite them, the faraway look settling in his eyes again. He slowly ran his hand along a still sleeping Nova's back. "He hasn't really…been the same since Camden died."

"I feel you," she stated, her words wrapped up in a sigh. And then she flinched. _I feel you?_ That was the best that she could come up with? She could have said something more sincere, something more heartfelt, something a little less…Melanie-ish.

"It's okay," he stated. She blinked and cocked her head to the side. He turned a half-smile in her direction; her muscles relaxed beneath his smile and she mentally punched her fists in the air. Victory! "Hey Mel, why do you have stars on your ceiling?"

"Because it'd look funny if they were on my carpet," she replied, looking down at the drab carpet that covered the floor. "No, but uh, I used to have them on my ceiling back at home. Er…my other home. Back in Canada. So, to keep me from being homesick, they painted stars on the ceiling. They glow in the dark too. It's super cool." She shrugged. "Makes me feel less alone, in a way. Cause while you can be alone up in space you're really not. How can you feel alone with pretty stars surrounding you? As far as the eye can see. And then…you're one of them. You're up there with them." She brushed her hand across her nose and then brought her knees up to her chest. "I know it sounds silly—"

"It doesn't," Isaac interrupted her.

She ducked her head to hide her smile. "It's 'cause my old friend from home, she used to love stars. Wanted to be an astronaut so bad. I told her that she better bring me back stardust if she ever got up there…" her words trailed off and a sad smile formed on her face. Now it was her turn to stare off in the distance as she thought back to second grade and how much simpler everything seemed to be. Where one day they could be monkeys and the next they could be Power Rangers and the next dragons. Where everything was bright and shiny and covered in the protective seal of bubble wrap so the abrasive lessons of reality wouldn't rub their pure skin raw too early. "So, yeah, with this I don't forget her."

"Must've been important."

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She was." She rested her chin atop of her knees and rocked from side to side. "How do you remember your mom? Do you know anything about her?"

"Not a lot. I…" he paused, tension building in his lips and then they relaxed as did the rest of his body. "Sometimes I can hear a woman's voice in my dreams. I don't know whose it is but I think it's my mom's. It just…feels like it could be her. Sometimes it feels like she's trying to tell me something. Or get into contact somehow."

"It's possible. It's called Dream Visitation. It's easier for ghosts and spirits to interact with us through our dreams than through concrete actions, like…writing on a board or moving an object. She could be trying to deliver a message to you or she needs your help or something. Maybe just trying to tell you she's okay?"

"Maybe," he hummed.

"Do you have a picture of her?" She watched as Isaac pulled his phone out of the pocket of the lounge pants and swiped the screen with his thumb. After watching him swipe with his screen a few times she leaned forward when he held the phone out to her. "Damn! She's _gorgeous_!" she breathed, taking in the photo of the pregnant woman holding her swollen stomach. Her skin was sun-kissed and a large, white flower sat behind her ear, nestled in her golden curls. "Why are all my friends' parents' so hot? And more importantly…what the hell happened to you?"

She shrieked and tried to bring her arms up to protect her face but Isaac moved faster than her, grabbing a pillow from behind him he walloped her across the face with it. It was a harder hit than she expected from him, her laugh morphing into a laugh of disbelief. "_Isaac Lahey!_"

"Ssssh!" he shushed, holding his finger up to his mouth. "Don't want to wake up the puppy," he added, pointing down at Nova.

"Gasp!" she uttered, placing her hand on her chest. "I can't believe you'd use my own dog against me! That is low, Isaac, low!" He grabbed the package of cookies from the end of the bed and took one out. He wordlessly waved it around, motioning to offer her one. "No thanks, I'll get one later. I'm gonna take a shower. You can watch TV or use my computer if you want. It should just be in sleep mode."

She grabbed clothes out of her dresser and went into the bathroom. She dropped the clothes down on the floor and turned on the water. As she waited for it to heat up she started to read the back of her shampoo bottle only to put it back when she had trouble sounding out some of the big words. She piled her hair atop of her head in a messy bun, stripped, and stepped into the shower, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin as the warm water touched her skin.

The warmth of the water massaged her tight muscles and washed her worries down the drain. The sound of water splashing at her feet dripped like rain, swirling around her feet, warming up the bottoms. She stood beneath the steady stream of water for a few minutes, feeling the rivulets run down her body and corkscrew down her legs to reach the tub floor.

After standing beneath the water for a while she scrubbed herself with body wash, rinsed, dried off and changed into her pajamas. She wiped off the fogged up mirror and poked and prodded at her face, growling when she noticed the start of a pimple forming by her nose. She brushed her teeth, momentarily cursing at the sight of the gap by her top right canine, flossed, and had a quick five minute dance party to wind her nerves down and empty her mind.

Melanie pushed open the door to her room and paused in the doorway, smiling at the sight of Isaac fast asleep, Nova rising and falling with every breath as he slept on his stomach. A half eaten cookie was clenched in his hand. She closed the door behind her with her foot and flicked off the light. Using the light of the moon trickling in through the window as a guide she approached her bed, picked up the forgotten food, set it on her desk, and pulled down the covers and slid into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin and turned to the side, tucking her arm beneath her head.

"Goodnight Isaac," she whispered in the dark and closed her eyes.

She opened them again and her eyes rested on…lockers? What? Her head tilted to the side as she approached the closest row of lockers to her. School lockers. Her eyebrows furrowed and that's when the thumping bass shook and rattled her bones. She fell against the lockers, holding her stomach as it throbbed in time with the loud music.

She turned her head. It felt as if she were moving underwater, her movement was slow. Her eyes caught sight of shimmering sparkles down the hall. She blinked. The sparkles shifted into focus, her eyes adjusting like a camera lenses. Metallic silver and gold streamers hung from the door header. Colored lights strobed against the opposite wall. People mingled in and out of the doorway, arms around one another, laughter pulling at their smiles, cheeks stained a flushing red.

She pushed herself off the lockers and stood in the middle of the hall, still gripping her stomach. The pain stabbed and twisted deep in her core. Her forward steps jerked and buckled with each passing pain. Her breaths burned in her chest with every inhale and exhale as she approached the door.

And then…

A heavy bump on her shoulder spun her around. A figure ran down the hall, towards the square of bright light at the end. Their hair swayed to and fro with every bounce in their step. Their heel clacking against the ground sounded off, a series of gunshots in the empty and quiet corridor.

The white light shimmered; the figure became a wavering mirage at the end of the hall. Melanie followed the figure, stumbling along. Her feet dragged and caught up in one another but she kept going. The pain clawed at her stomach, fighting for a way out, fighting to slow her down.

The light got brighter. Her eyes hurt with every shit beneath the bright light. Tears collected on her bottom lid and ran down her cheeks. She closed her eyes but the white light seared through. The clacking heels and the loud bass faded off. The silence slammed her all at once, throwing her back against the lockers again.

She swallowed the lump in her throat; the tears left tracks on her cheeks. The bright white light contracted into a pinpoint and then melded into the darkness. Melanie's shaky breath slipped into the darkness surrounding her. A bead of sweat dripped down her hairline. Hot breath engulfed her face and the metallic stench of stale breath wafted past her nose.

Her eyes flew open.

Red eyes stared back at her. Hypnotic eyes. Psychotic eyes. _Feral eyes._

For a brief second neither moved…and then her body pushed out the loudest, bloodcurdling scream she could muster.

She woke up on the floor. The rough textile of the carpet rubbed against her cheek, smearing the hot, sticky sweat. Her heart galloped in her chest and she sat up, peering around the dark room. She could see Isaac on the bed, still fast asleep. She brushed the back of her hand on her forehead, wiping sweat away. She stuck out her tongue to wet her lips only to find them already wet with a smooth, salty substance.

Getting to her feet, legs shaky, she shuffled to the door and quietly slipped out and went straight for the bathroom. The sudden appearance of the fluorescents made her blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the light but she didn't need her vision back to see the bright red trails of blood beneath her nostrils.

They tracked straight down, over her lips, and down her chin where they had begun to dry at the bottom. She pinched the front of her shirt and checked it to see if any blood had dried there. It was clean. She lifted her eyes up to the mirror. Bright blue eyes rimmed with dark circles stared back at her. She slowly turned her eyes out the door and across the hall to where her room waited with an open door. She gulped, her hands trembling against the edge of the sink.

The safe haven of sleep didn't feel so inviting anymore.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Well, Melanie had a very interesting dream didn't she? Not gonna lie, I love writing Mel/Isaac scenes. Their friendship is just so special, I want to hug 'em both. It will be explored further once we hit season 2, which will be in the next couple of chapters! But not just their relationship will be touched on, there will be a significant Mel/Allison scene coming up as well as a Mel/Danny scene and, next chapter, we get a super important Mel/Erica moment! I can't wait for you all to see what I have up my sleeve. Muahahahaha! *rubs hands together*

Thanks to all those that have fav'd, alerted, and reviewed my story! Please let me know what's going on in your minds with this story, I love getting feedback, much like all the other authors on this site. Also! If you would like to see chapter sneak peeks and get excerpts before chapters are posted head on over to my tumblr (mack-intosh). You can message me on there too to talk about this story or anything, really. Please leave a review!

~C.M.


	22. The Caged Bird

**_Chapter 22: The Caged Bird_**

"Why are you making cookies at six in the morning?" Isaac sauntered into the kitchen, digging his fingers in his eyes as he yawned. He ran a hand though his curly hair and pulled on it and then dropped into a chair at the bar counter. He reached out for a cookie sitting on a pan only to recoil when the back of his hand was slapped by a spatula.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, lifting a cookie off the tray and set it down on a plate. She paused, looked at him from beneath her lashes, and added in a sheepish manner, "And…I'm not allowed to drink coffee. So this keeps me up and I get a treat out of it. Are you hungry?"

"That depends, are you going to slap me again?" he asked, rubbing the back of his hand. She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the plate nearby that was loaded with eggs, toast, potatoes, and sausage and set it in front of him. "Oh, um…you didn't have to do this."

"I don't have to sing in the shower either but I do it anyway. Why? Because it makes me happy. And besides, you're my guest!" Melanie replied, almost appalled at the very notion of not doing something for him. "I'm not just going to let you spend the night and then kick you out."

"Not before I pay you, anyway," he cracked, poking at the eggs with a fork, "which reminds me, which would you prefer: hot chocolate or brownies?" He chuckled and ate the eggs sitting on his fork, not noticing the strained smile on her face. "Thanks. For everything."

She had started to say "no problem" but the words quickly died on her tongue. He already felt as if he was in the way, what if he felt like he was a problem too? Like his whole existence was a problem? She didn't want to add onto that, because he _wasn't_ a problem. In fact, she was pretty fond of his existence. "My pleasure," she finally replied, an easy smile breaking through her previous smile.

She stood up straight and perked up like a dog when she heard the three beeps that signaled the house alarm had been turned off, which was quickly followed by the sound of a key in the lock. As she went back to taking the cookies off the tray she called out, "Hey dad," and licked her thumb. "We're in here."

"We?" Laurence called back.

"Me and Isaac," she clarified before he walked into the kitchen. Isaac froze mid-chew and turned his wide eyes over to her father who ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. "He needed a place to stay for the night."

"Ah." He dropped his coat on the back of a chair and then hugged Melanie from behind and kissed the top of her head. "Nothing in the oven?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Besides these cookies? No. Oven's empty."

His eyes briefly rolled up to the ceiling and he clarified, "No…bun?" which wasn't too much of a clarification since it only made Melanie replied in a drawn-out confused tone, "…No?". Isaac, as a result, made a choking noise and held his face in his hands and Laurence slowly shook his head and Melanie looked at the both of them as if they had both just lost their minds, which she was sure wasn't too far off the mark. They were being really weird about the oven, after all. Laurence would have noticed if she had some bread baking in it. She shrugged and took a bite of a cookie. _Weirdos._

"I should get going," Isaac muttered as soon as her father headed upstairs.

"So soon?"

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then stood. "My dad's probably looking for me."

"But Isaac—"

"I need to get to work anyway. Dead people aren't going to bury themselves."

"If they did I think you'd have an entirely new problem on your hands," she quipped.

"Yeah, I don't know how the world would react if zombies actually existed."

She shook her head. "Not that! If they buried themselves, that means one arm is still stuck at the surface, right? How do they burry that arm? Do they leave it? And what if they could pull it in; wouldn't there be a hole left where the dirt hadn't settled? How do they cover that when it gets cold?"

Isaac paused, a pondering expression on his face. Melanie shrugged and pulled her mouth to the side, silently apologizing for her outburst, and popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth. He pushed a breath out his nose and finally replied, "I don't know. But if one wants to take a break from eating my brain, I'll ask them and report my findings to you."

Her shoulders relaxed and she turned a beaming smile to him. "Just as long as you promise not to eat my brain, okay?"

He nodded. "I promise."

Once he left the kitchen and headed upstairs, she took some of the cookies off of the plate and put them in a Ziploc bag. Grabbing a sharpie, she pulled off the cap and held it between her teeth as she wrote his name on the bag. She recapped it and had just reached for the leftover bacon on his plate when he ambled back into the room back in his clothes from last night.

"Ah! I caught you syrup handed!" he declared, snatching it out of his hand and taking a bite.

"I wasn't doing anything," she said, holding up her hands.

"Sure." He tugged his hooded down over his head, clenching the strip of bacon between his teeth. "I'm going to call you Mel…hm…oh! Melon the Felon!"

"Melon the _felon_!?" she replied, laughing aloud, covering her mouth with her palms.

"Was that bad?"

She removed her hands, nodding. "So bad!"

"So bad," he repeated, shaking his head. He stuffed the rest of the bacon in his mouth and started to pick up the plate when she waved him off, signaling him to leave it. "Okay, well, I have to go. Or my dad's head will explode."

"Take these," Melanie said, reaching across the countertop to hold out the bag of cookies.

"What are these for?" he asked, carefully holding the bag in his hands.

"To eat, silly," she replied. "It's physically impossible to have a bad day when you have cookies. Especially when they're fresh baked."

"Ah. Gotcha." He stuffed them in the front pocket and sighed. "See you tomorrow, Mello. And thanks again."

"Any time, Isaac." She nodded. "Really."

He mimicked her nod and turned to walk off. Ducking her head to hide her smile, she began cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and her baking. She had just put the plate away in the dishwasher when she heard the front door open, a brief exchange of "Hey Erica" and "Hey Isaac" followed, and then the sound of the door closing punctuated Isaac's leave and Erica's entrance.

"Cookies for breakfast?" Erica noted, dropping her bag in the chair Isaac had occupied only a few moments prior. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"Not really," Melanie replied, a yawn making her words heavy. She blinked and brushed away the tears that the force of her yawn had brought forth. "Bad dream," she clarified at Erica's concerned expression, "no big deal."

"And Isaac?"

"Needed a place to crash." She picked up the utensils she used for baking, threw it in the bowl, and then put it all in the sink. Grabbing the large spoon left over with batter stuck to it, she held it out to Erica who clapped her hands in delight and started licking the cookie batter off. "In other news, I can't wait until this week is over. I got SLC meeting to start putting up decorations tomorrow, the away game on Tuesday, more decorating and creating a playlist _and_ confirming the band _and_ confirming catering, the formal Friday, _and_ your sweet sixteen on Saturday! I'm going to need a Coca-Cola IV drip to make it."

"Yeah, well, I wish it would stop at the formal," Erica commented.

"_Gasp!_ What? And miss your birthday!?"

Erica shrugged. "It's just a day. I can't do what I want anyway," she mumbled. At Melanie's inquisitive glance she sighed and added, "I wanted to go play laser tag but my mom won't let me."

"Eri, it's because—"

"Because of my epilepsy. You think I don't know that?" she interrupted her friend, her brown eyes flashing in frustration. "I just wanted to do something fun for my birthday for _once_ and I can't even do that! Oh, and _surprise_, my dad decided he wants to pay for it this year. Where was he for the last twelve?"

"Don't let him ruin the day. It's your _sweet sixteen_, Eri! It'll be fun with or without him. How about, instead, we go to the fair, eat fried corn on a stick until we _explode_ and then come back and watch home movies?"

Erica's nose wrinkled. "Isn't that a little…tame for a sweet sixteen?"

Melanie held up her hands. "Hey, it's your day; we can do whatever you want. I just want you to be happy."

The two girls regarded one another, their gaze only breaking when Laurence walked back into the kitchen, an assortment of books and papers in his arms. His eyes bounced from his daughter over to Erica and back before he changed directions and made a beeline for the kitchen table.

"Should have known you'd tell her," he commented, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"Do you know how many movies and comics there are with the superheroes keeping their identities a secret from their friends and family and everything only turns out _much_ worse than it would have had they told the truth?" Melanie asked, taking a deep breath at the end of her sentence. She had rounded the countertop and stood next to her dad, looking up at him. "I'm not doing the same with Erica. I want her in the loop."

"You've read my comics?" Erica asked, not bothering to hide her bewilderment.

"No, I just looked at the pictures," Melanie admitted. "Anyway! I tell Erica everything, this included. I'm a siren. You know it, she knows it, now, let's move forward." She clapped her hands together and surveyed the books covering the table. "So what are these? Journals?"

"These are notes on our family," Laurence replied. "Everyone who was a siren and those who weren't. There's family lines involved to see if abilities skip generations or not. Everything on our family you are going to need to know."

"_These_"—he motioned to the scattered papers on the table—"are sketches of the different shapes sirens have taken on over the years: beaks, talons, wings, tails, etc. They used to be bound in a book but for safety reasons we found it was better to keep them separated."

"What about this?" Erica asked, picking up a leather-bound book. She removed the rubber band holding the cover on and began to flip through the pages.

"Information on our enemies," Laurence replied. "Everything we need to know about faeries and harpies. There's a bit on valkyries thrown in there as well for good measure but I don't think we're going to need to worry about those."

"And this?" Melanie picked up a smaller notebook with a crudely drawn bird on the front of it. At least she thought it was a bird.

"That is a list of siren abilities," Laurence replied. "Not all sirens have the same ones; some have different abilities. No one can have them all. They vary depending on which form you take on. If you're half, like you have, Hummingbird, once you take on a form your abilities from the other form you rejected will be dropped."

Melanie slowly nodded her head as she read over the words on the page: flight (up to 60mph), heightened sight, increased speed, increased agility, navigational prowess. Every word her eyes rested on made her stomach lurch. She lightly touched the words that were written on the page as a rock fell in her stomach and landed with a thickening thud. It was different imagining what it would be like to be a supernatural creature but it was something else to actually _be_ one. It all made sense; how she always felt just a touch…_weird_ compared to everyone else. How she could see things that no one else could or run just a tad bit faster than everyone else and how she always seemed to know where she was even if she was visiting a place she'd never been to before. She swallowed the sour tasting saliva in her mouth and closed the book and set it down on the table and wrung her shaking hands together. If she was lucky no one else noticed.

"Take this but _do not_ hold it up to your eye," Laurence said, holding out a piece of metal tubing.

Melanie took it from it; the cool metal chilled her palm. It stretched across her open palm. She curled her fingers in until she gripped it and hummed. "Wait, one thing doesn't make sense to me."

"_One_ thing?" Erica muttered.

"You said that there are two types of sirens," Melanie continued, ignoring Erica's statement. "But, in everything I've read it's come back to the conclusion that sirens are birds. Yeah, some stories depict them as water nymphs of some sort but that's not technically right."

"Melanie, what do you remember about sirens?" Laurence asked, crossing his arms.

Her eyebrows crinkled. "What I just said. And them being made to search for Persephone." She pressed her lips together and twisted her mouth to the side.

"_Buuuuuut_…" Laurence prompted, his eyebrows rising.

"But…" she swallowed thickly, rolling the tube between her palms, "with…with the Odyssey they sung to lure passing men to their doom by crashing into the rocks with the beauty of their song—"

"Damn! Where do I get a power like that? Could get rid of all the dirtbags school. I'd be a hero," Erica muttered, her words tinged with mirth.

"—and when Odysseus and his crew passed by them because their ears were filled with wax they were devastated and threw themselves into the sea," Melanie finished, one eye squinted shut as she tried to recall information.

Laurence reached out and ruffled her hair, sliding his hand down to cup her cheek. "I don't understand why you're so unsure of yourself, Mel," he said, his voice so tender that it made a blush appear on her cheeks. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. She playfully bit at the pad of his thumb and he withdrew his hand. "That's why. Because of the adaptation. It's why we have a set of teeth rather than beaks."

"Ohhhhh," Melanie dragged out, her lips puckering at the end of the syllable. She rolled the tube in her palm again and looked at it only in the next second to lift it up to her eye and peer through it like a telescope.

"Melanie Charlotte, what did I just tell you!?" Laurence barked, causing the two girls to jump. Melanie instantly lowered the tube away from her eye. "Do you want to see what you could have done?" His daughter wordlessly nodded her head. "Hold your arm out, palm down, and squeeze it."

Melanie looked over at Erica who appeared concerned but she nodded anyway. Letting out a breath, Melanie did as she was told; she extended her arm, twisting her wrist so the tube was held horizontally in the air and squeezed it only to jump when it expanded with more tubing jutting out at either side to form a bo-staff. Her wide eyes shifted to her father who looked back at her with a very prominent _I told you so_ expression on his face.

"This thing's as tall as me!" she cried out.

Laurence took the staff from her and did something—she couldn't tell—to make the extended sections slide back in. "That will become your new best friend. You may have the speed on your side but you don't have nearly as much strength as, say, a werewolf would have. You're going to have to work extra hard to survive. You do, however, have one thing on your side and that's your voice.

"Your voice will be your number one weapon. The top three things you'll be able to do with your voice: vocal mimicry, produce a sonic scream, and vocal bewitching. Your bewitching—fittingly enough—comes from your singing at the core, but you don't always have to be singing to do it. You have to tap into something deep inside and really want it to be able to control someone. But!" He held up his finger. "We only use it for good. We don't use it for personal gain," he added, effectively shooting down the evil smile that appeared on Melanie's face making her mumbled a feeble "phooey!" in response.

"Mr. Crowe, you said that a siren's natural enemies were faeries and harpies," Erica pointed out, "what's so bad about werewolves, then?"

"Werewolves will either kill sirens or use sirens," Laurence replied. "Being that there's an Alpha werewolf around here that forced all of this on my daughter…I think I know what he wants out of her." His fingers curled around the top of the chair he was standing in front of and his blue eyes hardened. "I wasn't going to tell her about this until she was eighteen but the Alpha forced my hand. This is why we moved here, Mel. After the incident we had to get away and I thought Beacon Hills would be fine, not just for you but for all of us.

"I could protect my family knowing Deaton was here. You could grow up somewhat normally and I knew if anything went wrong he was there to help. And your mother…your mother got the flower shop she's always wanted. She got the distraction she needed and she got to protect her family without being in the forefront…" his words trailed off and his once hard eyes softened as he thought about his wife.

"Mom knows?" Melanie asked. She felt Erica's hand on her lower back, the spot burned but in the best of ways. It was a comforting sort of burn. "Is…is this why she…?" Her words died on her tongue. She didn't know what she wanted to fill the rest of her sentence with. Is this why she hurt herself? Is this why she was uptight? Is this why she was ashamed of her daughter?

"Not…not directly," Laurence admitted. He met his daughter's eyes, his gaze was sad. "That's something she must discuss with you. It's not my place."

Melanie nodded. So she was being lead to another dead end, what else was new? She surveyed the books and papers on the table, pulling her lower lip into her mouth. So this was what her life was going to be now? Looking over her shoulder for a crazy werewolf wanting to do who knows what Ursula level shit with her? Having to keep her abilities on the down low when she wasn't even sure how her voice controlled people? Would she have to be quiet forever? The thought alone made her fingers twitch. Would she have to suppress her laughter too? Did that mean she could never be happy again? Not even if she saw a butterfly or if it was a nice sunny day or she got eleven chicken nuggets instead of ten _or they got pizza for lunch at school!?_ Maybe being a siren was a bad idea.

"Anything else?" Melanie managed to ask, doing her best to make her voice sound normal even though a rush of emotions ran rampant within her.

"I can't divulge everything, Hummingbird."

Melanie blinked. "That's it? That's all I get? I get slammed with information and then suddenly you clam up like Danny when the fireman's ball rolls around? You're just gonna throw me into the deep end?"

"You have to learn some things on your own," Laurence replied. "I'm here for help. So's Deaton, so's your mother."

"And me too," Erica added, lightly knocking her hip against Melanie's.

She managed a small smile but it faded a second later as she held her father's gaze. Surely this was a joke. He wasn't just…going to tell her part of the story and make her figure everything else out on her own. She didn't have the time for it. She barely had time for her actual school work, let alone sleep. If he could take her to Deaton and explain what she was he could help her…right?

He was the first one to break their gaze. She had to bite her lip to keep the gasp rising in her throat from becoming a concrete sound. Okay, if that's how he wanted to play it, fine. How hard could it be to adjust? If Scott could do it, she could do it too. With a firm nod, she gathered up the books and papers that lay on the table. Without a word Erica followed suit and picked up the rest. Muttering a soft "thanks" to her dad, she left the kitchen and went back to her room.

Her brain hurt like it did when she stared at a history book for too long: the information jumbled around and she was lucky if she could think straight afterwards. Sure, she got a lot of answers but there were still other questions she had. Like her dreams. Was that because she was a siren or was that Peter's doing somehow? What happens to her if she gets sick, do her powers go away too if she can't use her voice? If she's half does that mean her abilities are harder to control or would it just be because of her? What did her mother's flower shop have anything to do with protecting them? Was she safe at the hospital or would the Alpha go after her too? Or Isaac? Or Erica?

She unceremoniously dropped the books and papers down on her desk, turned on her heel, walked over to her half made bed and flopped face down on it. Her arms lay still at her sides and even though Nova, who had woken up at the commotion, came over and licked at her bare feet, she didn't twitch at the tickling sensation.

The mattress springs creaked and groaned as Erica sat down on the bed. Melanie could feel the mattress dip with the added wait but still didn't move. Not even when she began running her fingers through Melanie's hair. "Are you okay?" Erica asked. Melanie shook her head. "Brain overload?" She nodded. "Do you want some music?" She nodded again. "Do you have a preference?" She shook her head.

The mattress sprang back up as Erica got off the bed and Melanie blew out a breath, although thanks to the blanket it got caught by her face and heated up her skin. It quickly became suffocating so she turned her head to the side, tucking her arm beneath her head. She could hear Erica shuffling through her scattered CD stacks looking for something. She didn't care what kind of music that was chosen; she just needed something to drown out her loud thoughts.

This was complete bull. This wasn't how everything was supposed to turn out. Her father was supposed to sit her down and tell her everything, show her how to use her weapon and her abilities, reassure her that everything would be okay, and give her all the information she needed to be able to survive and ensure her safety; like in the movies. But no, she had to go and figure stuff out on her own. Was this some sort of punishment because she forced Scott and Stiles to let her into their little world? Scott got Derek for guidance and clear-cut explanations she got a sack of nothing? Were these the rules that all supernatural creatures had to live by? Or was this just her own personal test? Surprise! You're a siren, now go and find out how to actually be one! What a craptastic induction ceremony.

"He didn't even answer all my questions," she mumbled over the opening notes of McFly's guitar riff. "I'm supposed to have a partner 'cause I'm only half. Okay. So how do I find a partner? And how come I can control my powers with my eyes but not anything else? And do I have to worry about hypnotizing everyone in the world if I want to sing? What happens if I sing along to the radio, the DJs somehow get hypnotized by my voice? Can _I _fall for my own voice, or would that be narcissistic of me?"

"I don't think that will happen," Erica replied, sitting on the bed again. She placed a pillow on her lap and shifted Melanie until her head rested atop of the pillow. She resumed running her fingers through Melanie's black hair.

"Don't get too close, you might get hypnotized too."

"I've always thought you had a good voice, being hypnotized by it wouldn't exactly be a bad thing," Erica said with a small smile. Melanie grunted, her nose wrinkling briefly until her facial muscles relaxed, pulling her mouth down into a pout. "Do you want to go through some of the books?"

"No," she replied. "The letters would just dance around the page and make everything gibberish." Not that she could focus on whatever was in the books anyway. Not with the way Erica was playing with her hair and rubbing circles in her temples. Not with the wind being yanked out of her sails, sending her into free fall with nothing around to help slow her descent besides her non-existent wings. Melanie licked her lips, her fingers pressing into the pillow beneath her head until crater-like indents were left. "Erica?"

"Yeah?" she replied, not slowing her fingers.

"…If I ever turn into a raging monster…will you still be my friend?"

Erica's scoff was quiet. "Are you really asking me that question?"

"I just…want to hear you say it…to be sure…" her words trailed off and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

Erica's hand stopped for a second but, to Melanie, it was a second that eternity somehow fit into. It was a second that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart miss a beat and the crack in her wall get big enough for a worry to slip through and take over her brain. It was a second too long. A second she couldn't handle.

"Always," Erica vowed, tucking Melanie's hair behind her ear. The hair on Melanie's arms and the back of her neck stood up. "'Til death do us part." Her held breath rushed out of her at once and her cheeks flushed and the tender words that Erica just spoke nestled into her heart and illuminated her cheeks and sent her flying on a cloud. Her tight muscles relaxed and she nuzzled herself closer, curling up against Erica and a content sigh matched the smile on her face. That was all she needed to hear.

"You're pretty perfect, y'know," Melanie mumbled, reaching up to entwine their fingers. "Thanks for not freaking out when it told you." She rubbed her thumb against the back of Erica's hand.

Erica shrugged, a light red dusted her cheeks as she looked down, shielding her eyes. "You've always been there for me. Now it's my turn." She squeezed Melanie's hand and she swore she felt her heart squeeze along with it. "Your dad said something interesting, though. He said your mom took on the flower shop as a distraction and for protection. But…how? They're flowers."

Melanie shrugged. "That's what I didn't get either. I mean, how can a shop protect someone? Besides the security system and everything. It's not like we grow illegal substances."

"What about supernatural substances?" Erica suggested. "Like kryptonite?"

"Kryptonite can be a flower?" Melanie asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I was joking, dummy. Kryptonite's a rock. Different colors though. Each color does something different to Superman. If we were talking supernatural stuff though, it'd probably be the equivalent to wolfsbane or something."

"_Wolfsbane!"_ Melanie bolted upright only to recoil and grab her forehead after slamming it against Erica's. The two cried out in pain but then tried to hold in their laughter when they noticed each other's pained expressions. "Sorry, you just reminded me of something," she continued, hopping off the bed. "I've had Allison's aunt come into the store asking if we sold wolfsbane. What if we actually do? And what if the hunter's want it? They're trying to find a beta, I'm sure they'd do anything they can to get more wolfsbane to find and stop them."

"But don't you think they have all the wolfsbane they need?"

"Not if they can find a source growing in Beacon Hills." Melanie began pacing. "Dad said sirens would be tortured by werewolves and stuff for our abilities. Maybe that's how she's protecting us. By keeping wolfsbane on hand to stop them if they showed up. I mean, it _is_ incredibly lethal." She ran over to her stereo and jabbed the power off button and then grabbed her keys, doing her best to step over Nova who bounced around, echoing her excitement. "Let's go!"

"Go where?"

"To the flower shop!" She announced, rushing out her bedroom door. "Come on! Let's go!"

"Wait, Mel…" Erica scrambled to her feet, brushing her hair out of her face. "We can't go now."

"Why not?" She popped her head back in the room, her blue eyes wide. "We have a plan. Or half a plan…or an idea of a plan at least. Come _on!_"

"Mel, you're still in your pajamas," Erica pointed out, cutting her hand through the air to motion to it. "At _least_ put a bra on if you insist on running out there." Huffing, Melanie stood in the door way and held out her arms. Erica rushed to her dresser, grabbed some clothes, and threw them to her. "I don't mind being seen next to you usually, but running around Beacon Hills in your pajamas? Yeah, can't do that."

"Thanks for gracing me with your presence, _your highness_," Melanie replied, dipping in a low bow only to laugh and dodge the pillow Erica threw at her.

**_# # #_**

Melanie punched in the security code to Flowerworks before it could go off. She breathed out a sigh of relief and pushed her hair out of her face when she saw the red light shift over to green. She waited for Erica to slip in before locking the door behind her and taking a look around. Everything in the storefront looked the same. Some of the flowers were a bit wilted compared to how they looked a few days ago, but she expected that; refrigerators could only keep flowers chilled for so long.

"Did you think about what you're going to do if we happen to find wolfsbane here?" Erica asked, following Melanie around the store front as she peered at the colorful selection of flowers and glass vases.

"Thinking is something I skip over," Melanie replied, still looking at the flowers. "It takes too much time, takes the fun out of spontaneity, and people tend not to listen to me anyway."

"I listen to you," Erica pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you're not people. You're Erica. You matter." At the moment Melanie was happy Erica didn't have a super power or else her heaving sigh would have knocked her over. Although that could be really cool. She could probably cause a tornado if she sneezed hard enough. Chuckling at the mental image, she turned away from the flowers she was studying and instead studied the crease in Erica's brows. "What?"

"It's nothing," she replied, tapping her chipped-polish covered nails against her arms. Melanie's eyes narrowed. Right, it was nothing, and she was Cleopatra. Crossing her own arms, she popped her hip and stared at her blond friend, her eyebrows lifting as the seconds went by. When Erica didn't crack she began to hum the theme to Jeopardy, knowing full well that Erica hated the song. The longer she hummed the more obnoxious she made the song sound until she was all but screeching. "Okay, okay!" Erica cracked, making Melanie cackle with glee. She sighed again, kicked at the ground, and blurted out, "It's just…the things you say sometimes…it's confusing. That's all."

"Confusing how? I'm just talking."

Erica rolled her head back, groaning while sticking out her tongue. When she brought her head back down she briefly shielded her face with her hands and said, "I know, but all your comments and compliments and support...I dunno, I just…I can't tell if you're saying it because you're, well, _you_ or because…"

"Because what?" Melanie prompted, licking her lips. It didn't help much; her mouth had just become as dry as the Sahara as she waited for whatever it was that Erica was going to say. She had turned a vase and picked it up, even though she didn't expect to find anything in it or under it. The water from her mouth must have switched to her palms; they were so sweaty the vase almost fell from her hand as soon as she picked it up. "I got it, I got it. I swear, I don't have butter fingers," she said, quickly recovering the drop and putting the vase back. "The real thing or the candy. Though I wish I had the candy right about now—"

"Mellie." Erica stopped her friend's rant with a voice so stern that it actually made Melanie stop in her tracks. "Do you like me?"

"Duh, you're my best friend," she muttered, moving past her to look behind the front desk.

"Do you _like_ me?" Erica stressed. She didn't turn around to ask the question; she stared right out the shop windows and chewed on her lower lip.

Melanie took her time beneath the counter, shuffling through the packs of cellophane and tissue paper that took up all the space and shifting the appointment book from side to side. The question whirled around in her mind and collided with Isaac's haunting commentary from the night before. The words swirled around and became a noise whirlwind in her head, drowning out any thought she tried to come up with as the silence between them stretched on and she found herself standing on the edge of a cliff. Her toes curled around the lip of the drop as she stared down. Either she jumped or fell, catching herself on the rocks below or get carried off by a cloud. Open a new door or close an old one…

She took a deep breath and said, "Funny you bring that up. Isaac made a comment about us being together. I thought it was strange he brought it up but…it's like the flood lights all came on at once and blinded me."

"I don't think that answers my question," Erica pointed out.

Melanie stood up from behind the counter and nearly flinched when she noticed that Erica had turned around and had a particular look in her eye. A mixture of hope and fear and uncertainty muddled her bright brown eyes and she hated it. She hated that she was the reason for it. She looked down at her hands, started playing with her fingers, took a breath, and admitted, "I…like cheering you up. I like making you laugh when you're in a bad mood. I like talking to you first thing in the morning and last thing before I go to sleep. I like listening to you talk about comic books and video games even though I don't know what the hell you're going on about. I like watching you sew and make stuff because then the Erica that I see comes out: the Erica that's confident and proud of her accomplishments and abilities. The Erica that doesn't look at herself in the mirror and gets down on what's reflected back at her, the Erica that accepts her illness and her skin for what it is and keeps on going. I like being the first person you come to with news, good or bad. I like being the one you turn to when you need someone to pick you up. I like being the reason you smile when you feel like your life sucks because there's sunshine in your smile that makes the actual sun jealous and I just want to bottle it up and hang it in my room as a nightlight so I can see it all the time." She had to stop herself from going off on a tangent, there was a lot she could say that she liked about Erica and it wouldn't be enough. She could speak about her for the next five years and that still wouldn't be enough time. An illuminating smile blossomed on her face and her heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird and she felt more content than she ever had her whole life. "So long story short—"

Her words died immediately when she noticed the way Erica was staring off into space. She twisted her mouth to the side, laughed a little at her misfortune, and then reached out and took Erica's hand, waiting for her to come back to the present. She rubbed her thumb against the skin on the back of Erica's hand and continued to look around. Nothing seemed out of place. There were no cracks in the wall that could hide a secret room, which _really_ bummed her out. It would be cool to find a secret room, just so long as there were no booby traps to spear her along the way.

She blinked and turned her attention back to Erica when she blinked and took in a breath. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked around, confusing settling in her eyes. "What—?"

"You had a small seizure," Melanie informed her. She let go of Erica's hand, straightened, and tapped her palms against the counter. "I didn't find anything out here. May as well check the arrangement room."

The room was filled with many different arrangements that had been stalled in the wake of her mother's hospital stay. Half vanished vases had ribbons tied to them, scissors, tape, tissue paper, wire wreaths, and lengths of cut up grapevine wire lay scattered, and dried up petals and leaves dotted the table. She combed through every area of the backroom and came up empty once again, expect for the dust and pollen that seemed to be permanently attached to the inside of her nostrils. _Big surprise. You're only keeping to schedule, Mel; acting on half an idea only for you to come face-to-face with how foolish you were. Mel: 0, Stupidity: 45. Or is it 450? I bet Jackson's keeping score._

"Eri, I don't think there's anything here, let's just go," Melanie called out, kicking at a clump of dried out petals on the floor. She shoved her hands into her pockets and left the back room. "What are you looking at?" she asked when she noticed Erica hunched over a piece of paper.

"Just something I found in this book," Erica replied, waving the front of the appointment book. "Looks like your mom's handwriting. I don't think it's too important. Just a list of flowers."

"Lemme see." Melanie took the paper from her and dragged her thumb down the side of it, her eyebrows coming closer together the longer she looked at it. "Sage, lavender, aloe, rosemary, bay leaf, mugwort, rowan, alder, ash, hawthorn, willow…I don't get it. Half of these are trees and some of these plants aren't found in shops. What's the point of having them on a list?"

"Maybe they're your mom's favorite plants?" Erica suggested.

Melanie shook her head. "Nah, my mom's favorite flower is a sunflower—like mine—and her favorite tree is an evergreen. Which really means nothing until Christmas rolls around. You won't believe how many tree shaped car fresheners she gets from cousins during the holidays. Our house smells like it's been transported to an enchanted forest. …Which, if it were Narnia, I'd have no problem with it."

"Maybe it's just a list, Mel. We looked for wolfsbane, it's clearly not here. Let's just go back to your place and…and figure things out." Melanie looked up from the list in her hands, curious over Erica's choice of words. But Erica's attention had shifted to her ringing phone. Melanie folded up the list and stuck it in her pocket as her friend answered the phone. "Hey Mom. No, I'm at Flowerworks with Mel. We…we wanted to get her mom an arrangement. What? No, I can't!" Erica's hand came up to her face only for Melanie to slap her hand away and mouth "no picking!" when she began prodding her bumpy skin. Erica curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand by her side. "Because! Because. _Because_. _Mom!_ Fine. Yeah, yeah, I'll see you later." She jabbed her phone screen with her thumb and made a face at it. "My mom wants me home."

"Now? Why?"

"Because it's past noon and my mom wants me home before it gets dark," Erica replied with an eye roll; snark dripped from her words and puddled on the floor.

"Might as well go then, since this was a bust." She took the appointment book and put it back beneath the counter. "Sorry for dragging you out here for nothing."

"I got to hang out with you so it wasn't for nothing," Erica replied.

Melanie smirked. "_Now_ who's the one being mushy?"

She made sure to lock up behind them, taking one more look around the shop to be sure that her eyes were messing with her. Nothing else had been moved. Everything looked in order. She jumped into the driver's seat of the truck and started it up before her door closed all the way though she did make sure that Erica was buckled before she shot out of the parking lot.

If her (admittedly) reckless driving wasn't going to kill them the stifling tension in the truck certainly was going to do it. For the first time in her life Melanie felt strange singing along to the radio alone. Sometimes she had to do double time on the vocals because Erica wasn't in the mood or she felt under the weather or she was cramming in some last minute studying (not that she needed it, Erica could ace her classes in her sleep), but this was worse. She was _choosing_ not to sing. She may as well be twisting a knife in Melanie's heart, it'd hurt a lot less. There was nothing worse than singing solo on a song that was meant to be a duet. She needed a Nate to her Pink, god dammit!

"Are you okay?" she finally ventured to ask once she had parked in the Reyes driveway. The once humming engine had settled and her legs began to hurt from holding her half-turned position for so long.

"'M fine," Erica replied, playing with the ring on her finger.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just…I'm with you, you'd think she'd loosen the leash a little bit." She pumped the handle on the door and extended her arm to push it open. "I'm sure we've combed the entire internet but I'm going to look for more siren stuff. Maybe find an answer to your questions."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I want to."

Melanie was happy to see Erica pause and then tilt her head to the side to receive the kiss that she planted on her friend's cheek but her joy quickly fizzled as soon as Erica closed the door to her home. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel and settled in the odd haze of confusion at the intruding idea of actually _kissing_ her when her ringing phone batted it away. She noticed Scott's name flashing on the screen and instantly picked up.

"Scott! Hey! Are you alright? Is Ms. Melissa okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine and my mom's fine, thanks. Stiles told me how you helped out."

She shook her head, even though Scott couldn't see her. "Oh, I didn't do much. Stiles did all the work. But what happened with you?"

"After you stopped Peter I had to go find Derek and Jackson—"

"Jackson?" Melanie sat up straighter in her seat. "What does he have anything to do with it?"

"He wants the bite, right? He wanted Derek to give it to him since I won't, I can't. Derek was going to kill him so I had to stop him."

Melanie's eyes narrowed. His voice sounded off. Her heart began to pound harder. "Scott…what did you do?"

Scott sighed. "I couldn't take on Derek by myself…I had to shift."

"Jackson saw?" she guessed.

"Yeah. But then the house got attacked, I think the hunters found it. They shot through the door with wolfsbane bullets. I got hit—_but I'm fine_. Dr. Deaton found me. Jackson's fine too, he got out. It's Derek."

"Is he dead?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know. He's gone. He's missing, we can't find him."

"Waddya mean you can't find him?"

She heard scuffling on the other end of the line and then Scott's voice mutter, "She says 'what do I mean I can't find him'" before there was more scuffling. Then Stiles's voice came on the line and he all but barked, "What else does it mean when you can't find someone!?"

"Okay, for one, Mr. Stilinski, you don't need to yell at me," she sniffed, "and _two_, you could have meant in a spiritual sense. People lose themselves all the time. It's why they have religion, right?"

"She has a point," Scott muttered.

"No she doesn't, because that doesn't make sense," Stiles shot back. Melanie pulled the phone away from her ear and made a face at it. He didn't have to be so rude about it. "He's missing like _gone_. Like horror movie gone."

"He was last at the Hale House, right? Why not look there?"

"Why the hell would he go back to his own house that had bullets shot at it? Really, think about that," Stiles commented. She could almost see him rolling his eyes so hard they fell out of his sockets. "Would _you_ want to go back to some place that someone filled with lead? I don't think so! Derek's not there."

"Why not? It's his house and—" she tried but Stiles cut her off again, making her shrink in her seat.

"Mels. He's not there. If he's smart he's out hiding somewhere. Like a scaredy cat…or a scardey wolf." She could hear Stiles snickering on the other end of the line followed by more scuffling and then him muttering beneath his breath.

"Sorry about him," Scott said, now on the phone. "He's just frustrated."

"Couldn't tell," Melanie replied, forcing cheer into her voice. "But, it's okay. He probably has a point. So Jackson's fine, you're fine—"

"Are _you_ fine?" She blinked rapidly, the question startling her. "Stiles told me. About everything that happened and what you found out. You being a siren and all. Are you okay?"

"Wha? Me. _Psssh_. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm good. I'm more than good, I'm great. I mean, I haven't grown feathers or a beak or laid eggs or anything." She paused and an inquisitive look settled on her face. "Huh…_do_ I lay eggs?"

"Well, if you want anyone to talk to, I'm here."

"Thanks Scott, I appreciate it."

"No problem. Where are you now?"

"Erica's."

"Well, be careful. Peter's still out there somewhere."

"I will, thanks. Call me if anything else comes up."

She hung up the phone and tossed it onto the seat next to her. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the steering wheel. Stiles couldn't be right, could he? Police tended to go to the last place a missing person was found as their first stop. Why couldn't Derek still be at the Hale house? It was _his_ house, his was living there. It was probably the only place he had left. In fact, yes! She was sure he was still there. Stiles _could_ be wrong, even though that notion would probably kill him. He deserved to die every once in a while like the rest of them. It was only fair. She turned the car back on, buckled herself in, removed the parking brake and backed out of the driveway and headed straight to the Beacon Hills Preserve.

Once parked she made sure not to slam her car door shut so as not to attract any other sort of wildlife that could be lurking about. If there were werewolves and mountain lions, Bigfoot could be out there for all she knew. She didn't know how to handle Bigfoot. No one wrote books about that. She walked past the entrance of the preserve; it didn't take long for the thick trees to swallow her from view of the street. She glanced over her shoulder, took a bit of a skipping start, and ran. The wind whistled in her ears and pulled at her clothes but it didn't slow her down. It only made her run that much faster. An exhilarated smile appeared on her face and red settled in her cheeks. Her feet barely touched the ground, she ran so fast she felt as if she were flying.

The Hale House came into view in no time. She dug her feet into the ground to stop herself only to find herself eating dirt at the sudden decrease in speed. She spat it out, rubbing her tongue against the sleeve of her jean jacket and gaze up at the structure. She could see each and every single bullet hole that was laden in the door from where she stood. She couldn't even imagine how Jackson dealt with all of the information slamming at him at once.

The wooden stairs creaked beneath her feet as she ascended, taking her time to stand on the porch and look around. It was only a few weeks ago that she had found herself waking up in the Hale house. The moon had affected her that night like it had affected Scott, did that have to do with being a siren as well or was that just a strange coincidence?

She brushed her fingers against the surface of the door. They briefly slid into the gaping holes that the bullets left behind. They allowed shafts of sunlight to filter into the house. One quick sweep gave her no results, save for the blood stains on the floorboards. _Scott's?_ She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the door. If Derek was still in the house he probably wouldn't be on the first floor.

Her foot had settled down on the top stair when an arrow came whizzing at her face. It moved slowly, as if she was in the Matrix. It gave her enough time to grab onto it and pull it away from her face. She didn't have long to look at the arrow in her hand when she looked up and saw another was flying at her. She grabbed that one as well. And then another aimed towards her. Her muscles moved her before she even had a chance to think about what to do: she jumped in the air, her body spinning as it tilted horizontally, until she landed on her feet.

"_What the hell!?_" she cried out, half due to being shot at and half due to somehow turning into a ninja overnight. Her eyes darted around the line of trees directly ahead of her. The leaves rustled in the light breeze. A squirrel ran up a tree bark. No birds chirped, it was otherwise silent. Melanie narrowed her eyes and her vision zoomed in as if she had pressed a button on a camera, the edges of her vision rimmed in purple. Then she saw it. Movement. It was the slightest bit of movement but it was enough for her heart to ram itself in her throat.

She wasn't alone.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," she chanted while jumping off the porch, dropping the arrows she had grabbed. As soon as her feet touched the ground she ran. She could hear another arrow coming at her and tilted her head a few inches to the left. It smacked into a nearby tree, the tail of the arrow shaking as the arrowhead nestled in the bark.

"_Yikes!_" She screamed, falling backwards to avoid that arrow that had shot at her from the front. She scrambled back to her feet and began running back the way she came only to scream again a few seconds later, though this time it was due to a large flash going off in her face. She tried to shield her eyes from the bright sparks but the damage had already been done.

Too much light had filtered into her eyes. It was as if someone was shining a spotlight in her face. Her steps were staggered and she kept an arm outstretched to avoid crashing into trees in her attempt to escape. She managed to pick up speed but it all came crashing down when, in mid-step, she felt something wrap around her legs, snapping them together. She threw out her arms to catch herself but still managed to face plant in the dirt.

Rolling onto her back, she felt tears streaming down her face due to the overexposure to light. She frantically rubbed at her eyes but nothing she did could remove the giant white spot in her vision. She fumbled down her legs and touched the material of the constricting material around her feet. She felt at the knot and tried to untie it but it was tied tight. _What kind of freakish rope is this?_

"Well, well, well," a voice all but purred somewhere next to her. Squinting, Melanie tired to search out whom that voice belonged to but she could only see darkened blurry shapes approaching her. She cried out in pain when someone grabbed onto her hair and yanked her head backwards. "Looks like I caught myself a beta."

Only when the voice was next to her ear did she recognize who it belonged to and once realization set in a shiver ran down her spine.

It belonged to none other than Kate Argent.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Happy Moonday everyone! I dunno about you but I can't wait to see how tonight's episode plays out! Season five is so great so far, it's one of the bitter seasons if you ask me. So, to all those that ship Mel and Erica I told you you would be happy with this chapter! Not to the degree I bet you hoped, but Mel has made a break through people! She finally realizes that she may have feelings for Erica that aren't just platonic! Too bad she couldn't get that all figured out before she was attacked by the hunters, right? Who knows, maybe it'll jump start her confession later on. If she gets out of their clutches. Muahahaha!

So yeah, you all leave reviews and I'll go hide under a rock to keep from feeling your Melica related wrath :P.

~C.M.

P.S. my tumblr is mack-intosh if any of you want to chat there.


	23. The Lion's Den

**_Chapter 23: The Lion's Den  
><em>**

_Ok. Ok. Don't panic, don't panic! I'll escape from this. Of course I will. It's not like I'll be trapped in this…contraption, with no hope for release forever…right? No, of course not. Don't be silly. …They'll just kill me first. …Great._

Every heavy pant brought dirt and broken leaf debris into Melanie's mouth only for her to try and spit it back out a second later. It didn't help that her arms and legs were tied up behind her back and having a boot being pressed down against the side of her face wasn't ideal either. Kate had gone somewhere, probably off to gloat about catching a beta, and left one of her hunter friends to do her dirty work. And in this case "dirty work" meant making a mold of half her face in the dirt.

"I think this is a little excessive," Melanie managed to grunt. "You already have me tied up. I'm not going to do anything from down here."

The man laughed and out of the corner of her eye she saw him rest his gun against his shoulder. "A likely story. You say that and then you use your claws to break out and attack me."

"But I don't have claws! Really! Take a close look! I know my nails are long but that's just due to overall laziness to clip them. It's a real drag. Almost as annoying as shaving my legs," she rambled while straining at the ropes around her wrist. "….Not that they're exceptionally hairy or anything like that. I'm not a werewolf. You have the wrong girl."

"That's what they all say," the man scoffed. "And then you all go around killing and turning everyone you can get your claws on."

"No, really! I'm _not_ a werewolf! I'm not the beta you're looking for—_ouch!_" The boot was removed from her face and Melanie's head was yanked back once again when the man grabbed at her hair. A painful jolt shot down her neck as it was yanked to the side.

"You could make this a lot easier on the both of us and tell me where the beta we're looking for is, then," the man pointed out. He removed the gun from his shoulder and pressed the tip against the side of her head. The cool tip of the gun's muzzle against the side of her head made her heart leap into her throat. A hunter's _gun_ was pointed at her head. She swallowed the sour saliva that had seeped into her mouth. _Geeze, Mel, you really need to learn to shut up sometimes._ She blew out a slow breath, doing her best to calm herself down despite the throbbing at her head and in her chest synched up.

"I…I don't know," she replied, squirming beneath him. "But it's not me."

"Then what are you doing at the Hale House of all places?"

"Morbid curiosity?" she offered. _Emphasis on morbid_, she internally added at the feeling of him jabbing the muzzle of his gun against the side of her head. "It's a Beacon Hills myth, the whole werewolf thing. I mean, not so much anymore considering who you are and…and why you've captured me but it's stories we've all heard as kids! Monsters running around and creatures in the night and all that stuff. With the whole mountain lion thing going on I got nosey."

She briefly glanced back as best as she could to see if she had worked out the knot in the ropes tied around her wrists. The sight left her with sagging shoulders and a huff of frustration due to the redness left on her skin due to the effort. This sucked more than the rope burn she experienced during gym class last year when she tried to catch her fall. Coach Finstock nearly passed out and pissed his pants from laughing so hard at the sight of her ripped up and bleeding hands.

"And anyway, if I _were_ a werewolf," she continued, doing her best to keep the strain out of her voice and her body as still as possible, "don't you think you would've executed me by now? Get it over with and wipe your hands clean? Isn't that what you people do? You hunters?"

"But that'd make it too easy and where's the fun in that?" the man asked. She could almost see the smirk on his face but she definitely heard it in his voice. "Besides, lucky for you, I have a code."

"'Treat others how you'd like to be treated'?"

Finally, he let go of her hair and she winced when her head slammed into the ground. "Not that kind of code, kid."

Her eyebrows furrowed. What kind of code could that be? Not execute their captured prey without an audience? At least they were kind about no one missing out on the show. She had been overwhelmed by so many voices when she got captured; Kate's being the loudest of all of them. But as she was tied up the amount of voices changed until only one was left and when her eyes finally adjusted and she got her eyesight back everyone else was gone. Except for her lovely little friend who was a tad bit gun happy. It was almost as if he were overcompensating for something, she couldn't help but think. After all she didn't know anyone else who waved that big thing around as often as he did, pointing it at whoever and whatever he liked. Which tended to be _her_, unfortunately.

Pain pooled in her lower back, her arms were stiff, her muscles screamed in pain, and blood rushed in her ears. How much longer were they going to hold her like this? Would her father come and rescue her again? Would _anyone_ come and help? No one knew where she was, least of all Scott. Having expressly told her _not_ to go to the Hale House it was probably the last place they'd go and find her. How long did they have to wait to file a missing person's report? And her mother….Melanie pressed her lips together to keep in the sob that was trying to rise up her throat. Would this push her over the edge and leave her father alone, left to pick up the pieces of a shattered family?

_God, why couldn't I just listen? _She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath (avoiding the dirt this time.) _If you're going to get out of this you have to keep calm._ Even she almost snorted at that, it was a bad joke. But if she wanted to see her mom and dad again, if she wanted to see Scott and Stiles again, if she wanted to see Isaac, if she wanted to see _Erica_…

She scrunched up her nose and mentally forced herself to focus. There had to be some way out of this. So what if she was tied up like a pig at the county fair? They got out eventually, right? She could too. WWSD? What would Scott do? The answer, as obvious as it was, slammed into her brain and now her heart beat with suppressed apprehension as she quickly came up with a plan. She just hoped it worked.

She began humming, feeling the vibration in her throat as she tried to get the pitch she needed right. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the pattern she wanted to go for, all the while trying to ignore the burning in her arms and legs. She wasn't sure how people could go camping; the ground wasn't comfortable at all.

"So you're just going to stand around here waiting to kill me?" Melanie asked. "That's bound to get a bit boring."

The man snorted. "Something tells me you won't let that happen."

"Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

The man didn't reply this time. She tried to look to see what he was doing but he had stepped out of her line of sight. For a second she heard an odd crackling sound and only a second later she felt her body seize up; searing pain coursed through her body and her heart rate accelerated and her bones ached and it felt as if thick, hot water slowly flowed right beneath the surface of her skin. Her breath halted, trapped in her chest as her lungs burned and screamed for her to take a breath.

The pain seeped away and was replaced with an odd numb feeling. Her heart continued to race in her chest and her rapidly blinking eyes struggled to focus on one thing. They rested on a bird in the distance; she could see every feather, every speck of color on its wings, every line on its clawed feet. Drawing in a loud, gasping breath it was cut short by her new round of coughing due to dirt flecks flying down her throat. Finally, when her breath stabilized she groaned, "Ugh….that wasn't fun." She coughed once more and blinked hard to let the tears in her watery eyes roll down her cheeks. Glancing back, she saw that he was holding something in his hand; electricity crackled at the top. "What the hell was that, a cattle prod?"

"Just a little insurance to be sure you don't try to change on me," the man replied.

Melanie pressed her lips together. This was what the werewolves had to deal with just for being something that was different? Being hunted and tortured and attacked for nothing? Even if they were minding their own business and doing their own thing? She gritted her teeth and a fire burned in her belly. As soon as she got out, as soon as she escaped she was going to be sure that the hunters got a taste of their own medicine. It just wasn't right; no matter how justified they felt they were. It just wasn't right.

Another crackling sound reached Melanie's ears. She tensed, waiting for another electric shock but it didn't come. Instead she saw the man reach to his hip and pull out a walkie-talkie. He pressed his thumb into the side and simply uttered "What?" before letting go of the button.

"Dan, the target has to be moved. I'm coming to help," a somewhat muffled voice said.

Instead of replying "Dan" shoved his walkie-talkie back into its holster and didn't hide the annoyance on his face. He put the shock stick back into his pocket, reached down, and grabbed the back of Melanie's shirt. He yanked her hard and plucked her up off the ground in one tug. Her feet hit the ground but her legs were so weak that she fell straight down to her knees and received a kick to the back of her legs as she was yanked back up once more.

The Hale House loomed overhead, it's darkened and broken windows stared down at them as they stood by and waited. Waited for a gunshot, a flying arrow, a blow to the back of the head, a howl, a roar, _something_. Melanie's palms flooded with sweat and a bead of it rolled down the side of her face. A twig snapped. The bird in the distance flew away, disappearing into the thick branches above. The steps shifted over to shuffles as a man decked in all black stepped into the clearing. He, too, was carrying a large gun and had a particular limp in his stride.

"Has she been any trouble?" he asked.

"It's all taken care of," Dan replied. "Where are we moving her?"

The man's eyes flicked over to Melanie's face and then back over to Dan's. "It's a surprise," he replied sarcastically. "Untie her legs."

"What if she runs away?" Dan asked.

"Shoot her," the man replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. The simple two words made Melanie's blood run cold but she kept her face blank. The man grabbed onto her elbow as Dan knelt to remove the binding from around her ankles. She took a hesitant step forward and nearly fell over again as she tried to get her muscles warmed up again. The two slung their guns around on their shoulders and grasped onto her elbows to lead her forward. Her feet dragged against the ground for the first few steps until her legs started to work again.

She slowly let her eyes scan the woods in front of her. Her mind seemed to move on fast forward, zooming through a course in the woods that would lead her back to her truck and back to safety. She plotted every fallen log, every branch, and every root that would stand in her way for her escape. She glanced to her left to see the stony face of the new guy and then over to the right to the equally stoic face of Dan. She quietly cleared her throat, pulled up a picture of Kate Argent in her mind, and focused.

"What d'you two think you're doing?" Kate's voice boomed from all around them. Dan and the other guy stopped in their tracks, nearly making Melanie fall down to her knees again.

"Wha—?" Dan uttered, his head turning this way and that.

"I _said_ what d'you two think you're doing?" her voice repeated, much more angry than before.

"We're moving her like you wanted," the other man said, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he, too, looked around to try and find Kate. Between him and Dan Melanie was being tugged this way and that and she was thankful that her hair was covering her face or else she'd be given away.

"She's a _girl_, not a sack of potatoes. Treat her as such! Take off the ropes!"

"What do you think?" Dan asked, looking over at his partner. The other man stayed silent. Melanie's eyes swung back and forth between the two so much she felt like she was watching a tennis match. She chewed on her bottom lip and held her breath.

"….Do as she said. She calls the shots," the other man replied. The two men reached behind Melanie and started to work on the rope tired around her wrist. She nearly fell to her knees once more at the sense of relief that flooded through her as soon as the ropes loosened. She was going to be red and raw for sure but for the moment she didn't care. A bird approached, resting on a branch right above her head. It seemed to lock eyes with her and held her gaze.

A small smirk curled Melanie's lips. Pressure built up in her chest and the corners of her vision started to bleed a bright purple. Her chest swelled and she could feel the ropes loosen. The two hunters brushed them down her wrists and at the sting of the coarse material against her rubbed skin she opened her mouth and screamed.

A high pitched, hawk-like screech shot out of her throat and burst through the still woods. The hunters clasped their hands over their ears as the sound echoed and bounced around in the space between the trees. Closing her mouth to stop the scream, Melanie took the opportunity to grab Dan's shocker and whacked the other hunter across the face. She twisted the bottom to turn it on, whirled around, and stabbed Dan in the side with it, watching in satisfaction as he fell straight to the ground, twitching. She then swiftly stuck the poker into the other man's side and watched as he, too, began to convulse due to the electricity shooting through him.

Fighting the rush of…something that coursed through her she pulled her hand back, removing the shock from the man and twisted the bottom to turn the poker off. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she knelt by Dan and waited until he looked at her before she said in a rough but close imitation of Kate's voice, "Sorry, sweetie, but I like living a little bit too much to stick around." With that, she stepped over the two fallen men and ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

It wasn't long before she made it back to the car though it did take a little bit longer than it should have considering she took different paths to be sure she wasn't being followed. She threw herself over the hood of her truck and dropped a series of kisses atop of the chipped paint. It wasn't until she was behind the steering wheel and the truck rumbled beneath her that she paused and wondered why they hadn't taken her keys or her phone when she was captured. But that thought was fleeting as she pulled on the gear shift so hard she was surprised it didn't break off in her hand before reversing.

She has halfway on her drive back home when her hands started shaking. The shake quickly turned into a tremble as it rolled over her whole body. The steering wheel vibrated beneath her hands and her chest tightened, cutting off her breaths. She barely managed to pull over to the side of the road before she broke down completely: tears streamed down her cheeks, her chest burned as she tried to gasp for air, her hands shook, her fingertips tingled, and blood rushed in her ears.

It took a full ten minutes for her to finally calm down enough to continue her drive back home but even so her hands wouldn't stop quaking. She barely had her truck parked before she ran inside and threw her arms around her father. Only when she was nestled within his tight grip did she finally stop shaking.

She was safe.

_**# # #**_

Melanie didn't get much sleep that night. At her insistence all of the house lights were kept on and she sat atop of her bed with a tight grip on the stolen hunter weapon. Her eyes darted around at every sound she heard from the creaks of the house settled to Nova's dream-driven barking to the steady _tick-tock, tick-tock_ of her clock on the wall. By the time the first rays of the sun added blue hues to the once blackened sky her eyes burned and she had to fight hard to keep them open.

She was sluggish as she went through the motions of showering, getting dressed, getting the lunch her father packed for her, and letting Nova out to use the bathroom. She grabbed a piece of toast on her way out and drove straight to the school due to Erica having texted her early that morning saying she had a doctor's appointment. It didn't surprise Melanie at this point; she practically lived at the doctor's office.

She let out a breath of relief when she got to the school but then hesitated behind the steering wheel as she looked around the parking lot. There was no sign of Allison's car and no sign of her father's car rolling through the carpool either, thankfully. Her shoulders dropped from her ears and the lump in her throat dissolved as peace settled over her. As long as she didn't run into Allison or the rest of her crazy family she'd be fine.

She joined the mass of students as they entered the school. She waved her way through the slow-moving students and headed straight for her locker. If she got to homeroom soon enough she could get some sleep in before the day started. She was surprised that she was still awake and managed to get to school in one piece. Perhaps it would have been better to stay at home but if there was any sort of chance of them tracking her down to her house where she'd have to fight them off alone she wasn't going to take it. Hell, if Rita Repulsa never attacked the Power Rangers during school the hunters and the Alpha wouldn't attack her at school either. At least she was banking on that hope.

She spun the dial on her lock and tugged on it, successfully popping it open. She threw her bag in, paused to yawn, and then gathered up her books for her first few classes. She shoved some pens into the spines of her notebooks and closed her locker door only to turn and scream at the sight of Stiles standing on the other side. Though where a normal startled scream would have ended her exhaustion-induced scream went on a few seconds longer than necessary, thus earning a very unimpressed look from Stiles as Scott shifted his weight from foot to foot. Finally she clamped her lips shut and cut the scream off which was rewarded by an eye roll from Stiles.

"Thanks, I really wanted to lose my hearing in my youth," he commented and then squinted as he peered at her. "You look like shit."

"As long as I don't smell like it," she mumbled in response, turning her attention back to her lock. She looped it through the hole and clicked it shut.

"No you smell…" Scott paused to take an audible sniff of the air and then a smile appeared on his face. "You smell like strawberries and vanilla and…and cookie dough. Smells really good, actually." She smiled her thanks and tucked her books beneath her arm. "I tried calling you yesterday."

She nearly dropped her books at that but managed to keep them in her grasp. Her eyes widened as best as her tired, burning skin would allow. "Me? Why?"

"To ask about Derek and see if you were okay," he replied. "I kept getting your dad."

"Oh. Yeah, I was a bit tied up," she replied, pausing to yawn. She almost laughed at her own joke; it would have been funny if it weren't so _unfunny. _It would have been funny if she hadn't had a gun pressed to her head and if her wrists weren't still irritated and she wasn't so tired and she wasn't so jumpy and _and_ and _and_ and _and_. She cleared her throat and continued, "Do you have any other ideas of where he could be?"

"No," Scott sighed, shaking his head. "We can't even reach him by phone or anything either."

"So, what, you're not even going to try and find him?"

"We can't."

Melanie scoffed. "You _can._ I know there are hunters out there looking for you too, but Derek's done a lot to help you. He put his life on the line for you a couple of times. You owe him that."

"But where would we start looking for him?"

"I dunno, around the school? He tends to pop up everywhere," Melanie commented a bit dryly. "He's a bit too interested in high school students if you ask me."

"And if you ask _me_ its good riddance that he's gone," Stiles said, throwing his arms into the air in such a jerky fashion he almost hit a passing student across the head; a fact that seemed oblivious to him as he continued on his rant, "if it weren't for him and his family Scott wouldn't be like this and _you_ wouldn't be like this. He's out of the picture. We don't have to worry about him. All we need to do is capture Peter to get Scott turned back and everything will be fine. Oh and stay alive, that's another important thing too."

Melanie pressed her lips together and Scott sighed. Even if Stiles didn't trust Derek he _had_ to admit how helpful Derek has been. How could he just want to leave Derek behind, like he didn't matter? If it weren't for Derek Scott would probably be dead by now, killed by his uncle or by the hunters or anyone else that had a grudge against werewolves. Derek helped them a lot…in his own broody Derek Hale way. And he helped her too, he could have easily left her for dead in the Hale house when she showed up but he didn't. And she wanted to know why and that wouldn't happen if they couldn't find him; she always repaid her debts even if his uncle was the catalyst for her own issues. Who knew the supernatural could get so political?

"Look, let's just talk about this later," Melanie suggested. "We can come up with a decision then."

"Alright, but are you okay?" Scott asked, peering at her in such a way that it actually made her take a step back. "You can tell me if something's wrong."

And she almost did. She almost admitted that she had gone to the Hale House anyway to look around, she almost admitted that she had been captured, she almost admitted she had been tortured and that it was all at the hands of Kate and that Allison probably knew about it all but she didn't. She couldn't do that to Scott. She wouldn't be able to live with herself, crushing his hopes and his loyalty and his love for her, no matter how much it hurt. So she swallowed the lump in her throat, forced a smile and said with a shake of her head, "I'm fine. I just had trouble sleeping, that's all."

The homeroom bells ringing overhead made her jump and drop her books as the once sluggish students got jumpstarted with urgency to make it on time. Scott immediately dropped down and picked up her books whereas Stiles laughed at her misfortune. "Thanks," she mumbled when Scott gave her books back. "Also, can you do me a favor and check on Jackson for me?" she continued.

"Jackson?" Stiles repeated. "Jackson Whittemore? The Porsche Prince? The Butt-Chin Bastard? The Douchebag?" Melanie nodded. "Why do you want us to check on him?"

"Because he was brought to Derek's house and almost died. If Scott weren't there who knows what would have happened to him?" Melanie replied. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

"But _why?_ He's nothing but an ass to you."

Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true. Her mind went back to their last game that she played in: that look in his eye when she scored a goal and helped the team advance. That nod of acknowledgement that she was there and a part of the team and could help the team succeed. That nod of begrudging acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless, the only thing she had ever wanted when she set her sights on the team. He wasn't just an ass, he was a teammate.

"Yeah, well, that says more about him than it does about me doesn't it?" she replied evenly, lifting her strap higher up on her shoulder. The bell rang again, signaling for the rest of the students to hurry off to homeroom. She uttered a sigh, took her books from Scott, and bid them a short goodbye before rushing off to make it to her homeroom period.

She slipped in through the door before Ms. Morrell had a chance to close it on her and dropped down in her assigned seat. The sophomore class was split down the middle, separating their homerooms by alphabetical order by last name. She and the others in the class were sorted A through M and the other half of the sophomore homeroom was sorted N through Z. As she settled in her desk she took a quick scan around the room, spotting Lydia and Isaac but the desk next to Lydia's which Allison usually took was empty. Her muscles relaxed at the sight and she propped up her books to use as a makeshift pillow while waiting for her name to be called for roll.

She barely listened to the announcements that Ms. Morrell read off, instead taking the time for a quick catnap. Her body had a different idea of a catnap than she did because she found herself being jolted awake by the sound of a book falling to the floor and the sound of laughter shooting around the room. Her dazed state of panic made her widened eyes jump around the room and her body tense up a she half expected a hunter to come bursting through the door. But when she saw that it was just Ms. Morrell trying to wake her heat pooled in her cheeks and she slumped in her seat, offering up a quiet apology atop of the snickers that spread around the room.

Ten minutes later homeroom ended and Melanie made sure to avoid Ms. Morel's gaze as she slipped out of the room. It was bad enough that she fell asleep in homeroom but now she had to face her again for her French class within the next few minutes. It also didn't help that Isaac followed behind her, laughing all the way.

"It's not _that_ funny," Melanie grumbled. "And thanks, Lahey, for not waking me up before Morrell caught me."

"I'd say sorry but I'm not," he said with a big smile, "I wanted to see how you'd react. Thanks for the entertainment."

"Oh I live to please, Mr. Lahey," she replied which was quickly followed by her pressing her elbow into his side to knock him off balance. He crashed into "And for my next trick I'll balance a ball on my nose and bark like a seal."

"Ladies and gentlemen, she can do it all," he gushed in a mock announcer voice. "Except….staying awake in class."

"Ha ha," she grumbled, rubbing at her eye. "I had a hard time sleeping, that's all. What with class work and lacrosse and formal stuff—"

"Are you going?" he asked, interrupting her. "To formal, I mean."

She laughed. "I kinda have to. I'm part of the committee. I need to make sure everything goes without off without a hitch and that the band plays the right music and that the food and drinks don't ever run out and no one from Devenford Prep crashes."

"Would you even get a chance to dance?" he pressed.

She blinked at his insistence but then gave a shrug of her shoulders. He was just being curious after all, being a part of the committee wasn't as easy as they made it look. "I'm guessing sometime between bathroom breaks and punch duty. But don't you worry; I'll still have time to cut a rug."

He snorted. "Whatever that means."

She lightly elbowed him in the side again. "You're going, right? If you say no I'm going to twist your arm until you do it. The more participation we get the bigger our next event gets to be. And think about our prom! I know it's not for two years but our senior prom could be the best prom Beacon Hills High ever had but the only way that will happen is if more people come to our formals."

He let out an exaggerated hum, his lips pursing at the effort. He paused by the door to their classroom, leaning against the doorway to look at her. Her eyebrows lifted as she stared back at him, wondering why exactly he was blocking her way in and looking at her like that. Like he was trying to see through her skull and into her brain, not that he'd find much; she suspected it was mainly filled with shiny things, smile emojis, candy, and lacrosse balls. Finally he clicked his tongue and said a little hesitantly, "I'll go only if you save me a dance."

"Sure, I think I can spare some time and pencil you in," she said with a teasing smile. She patted his arm and moved past him to enter the classroom only to flinch when she saw Allison sitting in the desk in front of hers. Almost as if she knew she was being looked at, Allison looked up and then smiled over at her. Giving a hesitant smile in return, she forced her legs to carry herself forward and to her seat. _Okay, okay, don't panic. It's not like Allison knows anything that's going on. You're still fine. You're still safe. She's not some psycho hunter or anything. She's just…Allison._

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Allison whispered as soon as Melanie sat down.

"You just did," Melanie pointed out, "but sure. What's up?"

"Do you maybe want to…come over for dinner?" Melanie paused in the middle of flipping open pages of her notebook. Her finger stalled beneath one page but not before the question caused her to scrape against the paper in her surprise. The sting from the small paper cut felt like fire on her finger but she ignored it as her blue eyes locked with Allison's brown ones. Why in the world would she…? "I was hoping maybe you could help me with some homework and we could just talk."

And all at once the racing negative thoughts in her mind stopped and a wave of guilt crashed over her. Pity had nothing to do with this, she just needed help. Which surprised Melanie in a different sense, she always thought that Allison made good grades in all of her classes. She seemed like the Jack of All Trades type, found success in everything because she's, well, _Allison._ She became friends with Lydia in one day. She got Scott's attention in one day. She had people drooling over her and her beauty in _one day_. Allison was good at everything, until she wasn't. Was it bad to feel a sense of giddiness over that thought? Well, if it was, Melanie would be skipping her way down to Hell on that thought alone.

"Well, I have a SLC meeting after school—"

"After that, then. I can wait and then you can follow me home."

Melanie blinked at her insistence and played with the pen in her hands. Go over to the house that holds the one woman that captured her only a few hours before? Absolutely not! That was like walking into the lion's den. But even so she couldn't get her mouth to form the word 'no'. It was if it got stuck in her throat due to way Allison was looking at her. Her lip was pulled into her mouth and her wide eyes were filled with hope. She mentally cursed herself for being a sucker for doe eyes and muttered, "Alright, fine. Will your parents be home?"

"Just my mom," Allison replied. She then reached over the back of her chair to grasp her hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I just…really need to talk to someone and I thought you were the perfect person."

Melanie stopped playing with her pen and her eyebrows crinkled. This was…weird. This wasn't the Allison. Whatever it was that was bothering her had to be big to make her this…unsettled. "Is everything okay?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper as Ms. Morrell came in through the door, greeting them in French.

"I don't know," she replied and then turned around. The words were so simple and yet they lay heavy on Melanie's head. Whatever it was it couldn't be _too_ important, or else she'd go to Lydia for the problem wouldn't she? So it couldn't be too bad. And they wouldn't try anything crazy in Allison's company, right? And she could always make an excuse and duck out before she actually had to stay and eat. Melanie licked her lips. Just to be safe she'd let Scott know where she was.

**_# # #_**

"No, no, no. I said _oval_ shaped tables, not rectangle ones!" Melanie said with a shake of her head. She checked her clipboard to make sure her preference had been written down right and she nodded when she saw it was. "The rectangle ones only take up space. We need as much space as possible in here to fit everyone."

The two committee members she was talking to looked at her with wary eyes and she offered up a kind smile. "Look, we can just move them later. It's not a big deal we can…use these for the punch table instead so we can hold more cups." Liking her idea, she clicked the end of her pen and scribbled on the paper secure to her clipboard, drawing arrows to help illustrate her point. "How're you doing with the streamers?"

"We're just waiting for the ladder to put them up. Same with the confetti, although we need the net for that," one replied.

"Okay." Melanie made a check mark on her paper. "How about the strobe lights?"

"The janitor said he can get them up later on tonight. In here and outside," the other said.

"And they have star filters right?"

"Right."

"Good, good." She glanced up to be sure the disco ball was still in the ceiling and then made another check mark. "Alright, and do we know anything about the drapes?"

"Those aren't coming in until the end of the week," a squeaky voice called out. Melanie looked over her shoulder to see a few other committee members standing by the helium tank. Half inflated balloons were in their hands and filled balloons hug off string tied to the handrail of the open set of bleachers.

"The end of the week!?" Melanie repeated. "But the _formal_ is at the end of the week! We need to have it all up _before_ the dance actually starts or the ambience will be ruined!"

"I don't think that many people will care about a few drapes," a boy muttered, his squeaky voice caused his statement to sound more humorous than she guessed it was supposed to be.

"It's for the _ambience_," the girl across from him commented, stretching out the word. Adding her helium induced voice into the mix made them all burst into laughter and as agitated as Melanie was becoming that she was the only one who was taking it seriously she couldn't help but laugh. "Look, Mel, relax. We'll get it all done. Don't worry."

"I wouldn't worry if I wasn't missing a meeting tomorrow for the game," Melanie replied, rubbing at her forehead.

"Even if everything's not perfect, it's a _dance_. People are going to have fun either way. It's been a while since we had a decent dance around here."

Even so that didn't comfort Melanie as she went through her notes once more. Sure, she may be going a tad bit overboard, especially when her focus should be on the lacrosse team—she just knew Coach was going to have it out for her tomorrow—but this was the one chance she had to put in to hopefully become SLC president next year. And she wasn't going to let that slip through her fingers.

Blowing out a heavy breath, she turned her focus to walking around the gym to be sure everything was where it needed to be. Chairs were stacked in the corner, a space for the band was roped off, speakers and a microphone system lay right beneath one of the basketball hoops, a stack of tickets lay near a cashbox on a table. Everything she came across she marked off on the pages of paper on her clipboard. It wasn't until someone bopped a balloon against her head did she drop her clipboard and engage in a game of keeping the balloon off the ground. It was a nice change of pace from Coach's practices from Hell.

The muffled sounds of chatter in the halls later signaled that practices had ended for the day and the group took it as a sign to stop for the day. Melanie wished there was more she could do but she knew she couldn't keep Allison waiting forever. But even so she took her time putting excess materials away, locking the cashbox, and fetching her backpack from her locker where Erica was waiting for her. At the sight of her friend she smacked her palm against her forehead.

"You're going to hate me," she stated.

"That's impossible," Erica replied from her position on the floor. She rolled up the comic book in her hands and shoved it into her backpack before getting off the floor. She swayed a bit on the spot once on her feet and braced her palm against the cool door. "I'm okay," she said at the concerned expression on Melanie's face. "Just stood up too fast. Why would I hate you again?"

"…Because I'm going over to Allison's," she replied while spinning the dial on her lock, being sure not to look Erica in the eye. The silence was enough of answer for her; it squeezed her heart in the same way a disappointed expression on Erica's face would have done.

"You're going over to Allison's," Erica repeated, making it sound more like a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah." Melanie lifted her bag up onto her shoulder and grabbed her lacrosse stick which was wedged in the back of her locker. "She said she wanted to talk to me about some stuff."

"And you thought it was a good idea to do it at a hunter's house?"

"Well, no." Melanie paused to close her locker door and click the lock shut before continuing, "If she was one of them we'd know. She may not be involved at all. I don't think they'd put Allison's trust and safety on the line just to try and get to me. Or get to someone else through me or something. I'll be fine."

Erica sighed, her nose scrunching a bit, and said, "Mellie, I think this is a bad idea. A real bad idea. Something could happen to you."

If only Erica knew that something already _had_ happened to her. But she escaped that situation in one piece…okay, as close to once piece as possible. Her wrists still weren't quite agreeing with her but that was nothing she couldn't handle. What were they going to do at the Argent house, stick her on a spit and roast her over a fire like a chicken? Brushing the thought away Melanie said with a large, easygoing smile, "Relax, Eri, nothing's gonna happen. I'll go over, help with some homework, and text you when I'm leaving and once I'm home if that'll make you feel better."

"I'll feel better if you don't go at all," Erica replied.

"I already promised. I can't break a promise, you know that." She stared at Erica and Erica stared back and something stirred in her stomach that made her think that this didn't really have anything to do with her being in potential danger. Not really. Licking her lips Melanie continued, "You don't have to worry about me. I'm tough. Daddy says I got a thick skull."

Erica snorted. "Got that right," she stated, her words dry. Then she heaved another sigh. This was a battle she knew she'd never win. "Fine. I'll call my mom to come get me. If I don't hear from you—"

"You're allowed to form a search party," Melanie interrupted her. "Thanks." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Erica's cheek. "We'll talk later." She sidestepped Erica and dashed down the hall; she wanted to leave before Coach caught her and tried to berate her for missing practice. If he was that sadistic to Scott and Stiles she could only imagine how haywire he'd be now. It'd probably make his hair stick up ever more than it already does. She giggled at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Allison asked almost as soon as Melanie stepped out through the front door.

Her laughter faded but the smile stayed on her face. "Nothing. Just thought of something."

"Oh. Okay." Allison cleared her throat and tucked her slightly curly hair over her shoulder. "So, are you ready to go? You can just follow me. My car is—"

"I know which one it is," Melanie interrupted her. _Not that I've been on the lookout for it or anything._ She lifted her chin, letting Allison know she could go off to her car, and dug in her pockets for her keys as she headed towards her truck. She threw her backpack and stuck into the bed and hesitated by the door when she spotted Erica staring at her from the front steps. She relaxed her shoulders, brought a smile to her face and waved before getting into her car.

The further out she drove the more unease began to grip at her. It made her clutch her steering wheel in a tighter hold, it made her take a few breaths more than usual, it made her shoulders lift up towards her ears and her eyes dart from one side of the road to the other. When she finally arrived at the Argent home her shoulders managed to sag back into position but the unease she had felt didn't go away completely. She couldn't help but notice how her beat-up truck looked like an eyesore compared to Allison's sleek car and their large, picturesque home as she got out and gathered her things.

"Come on, we can go up to my room. No one will bother us," Allison said, her hair bouncing with each step as she rushed up to the front door. Melanie nodded but kept a tight hold on her lacrosse stick just in case some were-rabbit or something jumped out at her (which she couldn't help but smile at the idea of being bitten by one, it'd probably help her like carrots. Her mom would love that).

It almost felt wrong to walk right into Allison's room. Rooms were like an extension of the person who slept in it, made it their safe space. She felt as if she were walking right into Allison's brain, all the exposed parts anyway. It was spacious with a few flower decoration themes thrown around on the bedspread, pillows, rugs, and wall decorations. The cream of her wall made the dark wood of her bed, dresser, desk, and shelf stand out in a contrasting way that almost made her eyes water. She overheard Lydia once describe Allison's style as Bohemian and she didn't get it at the time but now that she was standing in Allison's bedroom it screamed Bohemian: from the wall décor to the hanging paintings to the jewelry boxes to the Parisian knick-knacks. Melanie almost felt bad throwing her stuff down in Allison's uncluttered room, whereas had she been in her own she wouldn't even have to think twice about it.

"So…you have family there or…?" Melanie asked, nodding over at the little statue of the Eiffel Tower on her desk.

"Yeah," Allison replied as she sat in her desk chair and pulled off her heels. "Some people on my dad's side of the family are there. We visit a lot during the summer. It's a great place. Have you been?"

"Not yet. I want to. Funnily enough, some of my dad's family is from there too. My dad used to live there but then he moved to Canada and met my mom and here we are."

Allison nodded, briefly rubbing her feet. "You can sit anywhere, I don't mind." Melanie glanced around before dropping down on the floor by the bed. "I think you'd like it there," she continued while taking books out of her bag. "There's nothing quite like seeing the Louvre or the Arc de Triomphe in person. And then there's the food, the food is amazing. You haven't lived until you've eaten a fresh croissant."

"Oh don't tell me that. It'd only give me cause to get fat and then give Coach an excuse to kick me off the team," Melanie muttered, suing her feet to press on the heels of her boots to slide them off. She didn't know what exactly Allison needed help with so she didn't take out her books just yet. She dug her fingers into her plush, white carpet. It was so soft she was almost sure that it was actually sheep's wool she was feeling beneath her fingers.

"After the way you've been playing I'm surprised he's not kissing your feet," she commented. Melanie brushed it off with a shrug of her shoulders. She may be playing well, siren help or not, but she was no Jackson Whittemore. "What made you want to play anyway?"

Melanie slouched a little against the edge of the bed to get herself comfortable. "Well, when I was younger my mom and dad learned early on that I shouldn't be left alone because then I'd get into everything and get into trouble. I don't like being idle, see? _So!_ My mom used to take afternoons off to watch me after school and some days she'd have Scott and Stiles over too 'cause of Miss Melissa working late as well as the Sherriff. To keep us busy she'd take us to some of the high school lacrosse games and I've been into it ever since. I like the strategic game play, I like the brute force of it, and I like the power. It's not a typical 'girl' sport; it's not something people expect me to do. And I love that. That way I have the upper hand when this pint-sized ball of fury comes a'swingin'." She curled her hands into fists and mimed punching the air.

Allison laughed; dimples carving their way into her cheeks as she flipped open a notebook. She lazily flipped through some of the pages. "Well, you're really good. We can all see that you love it. Ignore everyone else; they just can't handle a girl with power."

"Aint that the truth. I think I'm giving Jackson anxiety." _Or being nearly killed by a werewolf could be doing that too._ She lightly bit down on her lip and contemplated texting Jackson to see if he was okay. She didn't trust Scott and Stiles to properly ask but then she thought better of it. Getting a barrage of abusive texts wasn't at the top of her to-do list for the day. How Lydia was able to stay sane while dating him was still a mystery to her. But she had to give the girl props, Melanie wouldn't last as long as Lydia had dating someone like him. "Anyway, we didn't come here to talk about lacrosse, did we? What class did you need help on?"

"French, actually," she replied, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. "I'm having trouble with reflexive verbs."

"And you didn't ask Ms. Morrell because…?" Melanie asked, her eyebrows lifting.

"You're getting an A in the class."

"That's 'cause I'm fluent in the language," Melanie said with a wave of her hand before stating to tug some of her own books out of her bag. "I don't need to try that hard."

Allison reached out and smacked her on the arm. "Then why're you taking the class, you goof?" she asked with a little laugh.

"Because it's an easy A," Melanie replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Plus, with English and Music, it balances out my Chemistry and Econ grades." She flipped open her notebook and turned to the pages that they needed. "Now about those verbs."

She did her best to make the conjugations and the use of the verbs as clear as possible but she could tell that Allison wasn't focused on it. Not with the way her brow was furrowing and he was biting on her thumbnail (it gave Melanie a strange sense of relief to see that Allison at least had a bad habit). She didn't give up, though, until she saw Allison nearly gouging a hole in her paper due to how fast she was erasing her mistake.

"Okay, let's take a break before you start a fire," Melanie said, taking the pencil out of her hands.

"Sorry. I'm just—ugh!" Allison uttered a frustrated cry and pushed her long dark hair out of her face with her fingers.

"Ooh, that's a step above 'meh'. It must be serious." Melanie's attempt at a joke fell flat and she cleared her throat, adopting a concerned expression. "What's up? Does this have anything to do with what you can't talk to Lydia about, hence why I'm here?"

"I can't talk to anyone about it, really."

"But me?"

"Yeah."

"Why me of all people?"

"Because I know you'd believe me."

On the outside she managed to make her expression remain neutral if not a little concerned but on the inside her body and nerves went into panic mode. A rush of warmth spread throughout her body and she swore her armpits turned into a swamp with how fast sweat collected there. "Heh, about what?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice as calm as her outsides.

Allison immediately jumped out of her chair and closed the door to her bedroom. Well, this was it. This was when Allison was going to reveal that she was hunter and that Melanie was stupid enough to believe her and fall her for her trap and then get killed and then be mounted and stuffed and put on display for the other hunters to show how easy it is to trick some of their victims. Hopefully she was one of the cuter stuffed victims.

"It's my aunt," Allison replied, kneeling in front of Melanie's once-relaxed form. "A few nights ago my aunt…she was being weird. She was telling me about things about my family that's just so…it sounds so farfetched. It sounds like some made-up story." Allison's eyes turned downwards as did the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows scrunched up again and her eyes moved side to side, as if she were trying to decipher some strange invisible text in front of her. She swallowed and continued. "And she called me because she wanted to show me something. To help me understand more about my family."

"Okay. What'd she show you? Some…mutated family tree or something?" Melanie asked. Or some proof that they were all immortals somehow. It had to be the only way to explain the Argent family's freakishly young looks.

"No." Allison's chest heaved with the breath she took in and then let out all in one, loud _woosh_. "She showed me…a-a werewolf." At the befuddled expression on Melanie's face she rushed on, "I know, I know it sounds crazy. I still don't even know that's what I saw. But my aunt…she had one; she had _something_ captured and chained up. And she was…_torturing_ it. She was electrocuting it. And…and she said that's what we do. My family. We hunt them, those things. My aunt and my dad—I told you it sounded crazy. I just thought, since you're so into the supernatural maybe you'd believe me."

Melanie guessed that Allison began to shut down due to the look on her face that, if she had to describe it, would probably be a grotesque cross between fear and outright panic with a touch of nausea thrown in. It took her a few tries to twist her face back into what she hoped was a normal expression as she said, "Well…I mean, I'm pretty sure Harris is a vampire so…werewolves must exist. Like…Finstock! He could be one. Have you seen his hair? And he's _really_ weird…with and without the full moon. He doesn't need help on that front. Not much anyway." She tried to laugh but it came out robotic and forced.

Allison didn't seem to notice as she wrung her hands together, the concerned expression never leaving her face. "This…this is _crazy_, right? My family hunts werewolves? They're actually _real_? Running around our city…chasing us in the school?" She dug her hands into her hair and began mutter beneath her breath, more to herself than to Melanie. "My aunt is keeping a werewolf captive. My family hunts werewolves. Werewolves exist. Werewolves _exist_. I wanted to be stronger, is this the price?"

"Aww, _Alli_, let's not give away all of our secrets." The two girls whipped their heads around to see Kate leaning in the doorway. Her arms were crossed and a smirk lay on her lips but her eyes were cold as the night. "We wouldn't want to scare away our dinner guest, right?"

_Too late,_ Melanie thought as a lump formed in her throat.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an:**_ Well, it's been a while since my last update. I am happy to announce that Underneath it All is one year old! It turned one on October 30th! When I first started this story it was just a simple idea I had that wouldn't leave me alone that I tried on a whim. Never did I expect to get such a response to it, such as being so close to breaking 100 reviews! Thanks so much to everyone for reading and reviewing, I appreciate it so much, you don't even know.

As a celebration of UIA turning one I have two surprises for you; the first being that I have come up with a title for the sequel! It'll be called _The Space Between_. The second surprise, I have come up with a series name for my Teen Wolf stories and it's called _The Siren Song _series! We're also getting close to the end of season 1, I can't wait for you all to see what I have up my sleeve for season 2. But we have to get through the formal first, which is almost here!

What did you think of this chapter in the mean time? Melanie's escape from Kate's cronies and her talk with Allison? Was she a bit too naive and trusting to go to Allison's house even though she knows what Allison's family is like? And we learned a bit more about her insecurities when come face to face with Allison in her natural habitat, so to speak. Next up we have the big away lacrosse game and some more Mel/Danny scenes. Thanks for being so patient with me. Please read and review!

~C.M.

P.S. If you'd like to talk about this story, get some sneak peeks and edits, or would just like to chat with me you can follow me on tumblr at mack-intosh*tumblr *com.


	24. Dancing with the Devil Part 1

**_Chapter 24: Dancing with the Devil Part 1_**

The two girls watched silently as Kate stalked into the room, taking long slow steps before she collapsed atop of the comforter. She picked up the stuffed bear that lay against Allison's pillows and rocked it in her hands, as if she were making it dance from side to side. The silence in the room built as Melanie and Allison exchanged a look with one another, wondering how Kate was going to react. Or if she'd react at all. Allison fidgeted with a loose thread on the end of her shirt and Melanie tried to stay as still as possible; maybe, if she didn't move, Kate would somehow forget that she was there. The steady _thunk thunk thunk_ of Kate's shoe against the back of her head was telling her that her plan wasn't exactly working.

"So," Kate sighed, putting the bear down, "you don't seem particularly upset by all this." It took Melanie a few seconds to realize that she was being spoken to but even so she didn't turn around. Not even when she felt Allison's gaze shift to her. Not even when Kate gave a particularly hard kick to the back of her head. "Or surprised, even. It's very peculiar."

"Oh, well, you know what they say about active imaginations! They make everything else seem tame in comparison," Melanie replied, thankful that she wasn't looking at Kate. Her words may have been calm but her eyes shifted from side to side as if she was watching a tennis match. There were only two ways to escape: throw herself out the window or run for the door. She needed her legs so the window was out and Kate would probably beat her to do the door and have her in a headlock before she could blink. She'd had to wait.

"Maybe," Kate drawled. Allison's bed creaked as Kate shifted her position. Melanie jerked away when she felt Kate's hot breath by her ear but Kate now had a tight hold on her head. "But I don't believe that. See, I think you're too smart for that."

"You mind saying that to a few people? I think it'd make their heads spin; I've been waiting fifteen years to witness that," she managed to crack despite her heart thumping against her ribs.

The steady ticking of a clock filled the silence that settled over the room. Allison stopped fidgeting but she didn't look over at them. Melanie clamped her lips together. Kate's hot breath brushed past her ear and made her hair stand up. Sour saliva collected in her mouth and she tried to swallow but the lump in her throat made it difficult. Every attempt to force her body to relax was a lost cause.

"How about, instead…you join us. Hmm?" Kate suggested. Melanie could feel her fingers uncurling from the strands of her hair and the bed shifted more until she saw Kate's shoes in her peripheral vision. "Allison here is showing promise with her skills. She'll be valuable." She approached Allison and draped her arm around her shoulder, pulling her niece to her side. "And I think you will too," she added in Melanie's direction.

Melanie felt hot under the collar due to Kate's hard gaze while her words settled like a weight on her shoulders. What was that supposed to mean? That she'd be a valuable hunter? Or was she trying to psyche her out, that she'd be a valuable _prize_ to whomever caught her first? Who was she kidding, Kate had her in her clutches and she hardly had to do the work. She was hand-delivered, wrapped up in a little bow on a silver platter. She swallowed the lump in her throat as a voice screamed in her head, _You're so stupid, Melanie. So stupid! You deserve whatever happens to you for trusting Allison!_

"No, no, leave her out of this," Allison insisted, her eyes wide. "Please, she just—"

"Is that _begging_ Allison?" Kate asked, silencing her niece right away. Allison licked her lower lip and hung her head; her cascading hair shielded her face. "We never beg. That just gives others power to use against you…and we _don't_ want that. You want to be strong, right?" When Allison didn't say anything, Kate grabbed her by the chin and jerked her head up. "_Right?_" she pressed.

Allison barely nodded her head but it was a nod nonetheless. Which was worse, Melanie couldn't quite decide: Kate tugging on Allison's puppet strings or Allison being tangled up in them? How could she _want_ to be a hunter? To chase around people that just wanted to live their lives in private? To kill those who did nothing to them, who were pulled into the world without a choice? To harm Scott? Her heart lurched. She couldn't have known about Scott yet or else she wouldn't go along with it…would she?

How much did they _really_ know about Allison Argent?

"Now this one," Kate sighed, approaching Melanie once more, "we've extended an offer to her once before. She refused. But…she can still be useful." Now she took Melanie's chin in her hand, jerking her head upwards. "I think she knows much more than she's letting on. And we can't just let her go, with everything she knows. With what _you_ told her."

"I'm sorry—" Allison started.

"Don't apologize, Alli," Kate interrupted, her words losing any trace of mirth it carried before. "Hey, you're just a kid. This is…a bit too much for some people. They need to go and seek help elsewhere, that's normal. It's weak, but it's normal." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared hard at Allison. "Because that's all you're ever going to be, a normal, silly, _weak_ little girl." Allison's jaw clenched, sharpening her once soft features. Her lips pressed together in a line and two rosy splotches appeared on her cheeks. But Kate was oblivious to it, or she ignored it as her fingernails began to dig into Melanie's skin. "Since we're having a little sharing session, it's only fair that you tell Allison what you are."

Melanie didn't have time to process Kate's words before she was yanked to her feet in one pull due to Kate's scary strong grip. Allison's previously shamed gaze wasn't on the floor anymore; instead her brown eyes were trained on Melanie. Her lips were parted and her eyebrows were furrowed in evident confusion. Silence wrapped around the girls and Melanie wished that her heart that was ramming against her ribs would pop out of her chest and beat Kate into submission.

The seconds ticked by and Melanie licked her dry lips. Her fingers briefly curled into fists by her side but then relaxed a she lifted her head and stared defiantly at Kate. "Allison already knows what I am," she stated. She nearly smiled in satisfaction at the floored expression cracking through Kate's tough exterior but she kept her voice firm a she continued, "I'm a concerned friend." She pulled her hand out of Kate's grasp and took her stunned silenced a chance to put space between them. And before her brain could catch up with her mouth she blurted out, "And for good reason, it seems; she must be tired of you riding her dick into the dirt."

Warning sirens sounded off in her head and she briefly cringed at the words she uttered in the vicinity of a _hunter_ of all people. If Kate could strike her down in that instant she wouldn't even fight it, she'd deserve it for being so brazen in that sort of company. _Or stupid_, her mind nagged like a harsh whisper behind her ear.

She looked over to Allison only for the two to lock eyes. Melanie was the first to turn away when an uncomfortable clench squeezed her stomach. Her body jolted, as if submerged in ice cold water at the realization that she was just standing there…trapped in a room…with _hunters._

The fact kick started her and she rushed to grab her backpack and her phone and she couldn't help but find it odd that they weren't doing anything to stop her. They just watched her hastily trying to get her bearings, shoving her books back into her bag while simultaneously trying to put it on. Had anyone stood any closer to her they surely would've gotten smacked across the face. All the while she couldn't help but wonder why they weren't stopping her.

_Don't worry, just run. Don't worry, just run_. She had barely made it out the door and down the stairs when Kate caught up to her, grabbing her arm. Melanie's breath caught in her throat as she stared up at the older woman, who now held a smirk on her face. "Allison shouldn't be involved," Melanie muttered.

"She made that choice for herself, who'm I to stop a girl who wants to be in charge of her own life?" Kate replied, her voice low.

"You can do that without harming innocent people in the process," Melanie shot back.

"You can an Alpha werewolf innocent? And the two betas running around? He's making a pack and killing anyone that gets in his way. I hardly call that helping society. They need to be smoked out." Melanie didn't have time to digest her words because Kate stepped closer and said with an almost cat-like grin, "I know what you are. You're not a beta. No. You're a siren." Hearing the words sliding out of Kate's mouth made her skin crawl. Such a simple sentenced carried too much weight, cracking the words and turning them into knives that struck her. "I should have known when you were able to evade some of our attacks. But imitating me? That was a good one, I have to admit. I didn't see it coming. But now, you can help me."

"Forget it. I'd never help you harm anyway," Melanie hissed.

Kate tightened her grip on Melanie's arm, her smirk growing wider. "Oh, I think you will. Because if you don't, I'll make sure the only way your mother leaves the hospital is in a body bag."

Melanie's blood ran cold. Her breath stopped completely and she stared up at Kate in disbelief. She didn't even bother to challenge her; she knew Kate could stay true to her threats. One glance and anyone could see there was no shred of humanity in her. Or perhaps it died a long time ago.

"I don't need you to do much," Kate continued, now adopting a warm, conversational tone, "just lead us to the Beta. With your abilities that shouldn't be too hard. They'll come knocking at your door soon enough, after all, it's not every day a siren is in our midst." She lifted her hand to rest it on Melanie's cheek and then pinched it hard between her forefinger and thumb. "Think about it, but don't take too long. I don't like being kept waiting." Kate loosened her fingers only to extend them and slap her face.

Melanie was left standing on the stairs, clutching her bag and reeling beneath her stinging face as her brain tried to comprehend everything. She swallowed thickly and turned, as if on autopilot, and descended the stairs to get to her car. Once she was in her car she would be safe. Once she was back home she would be safe. She can talk to her dad, they could figure out a plan and everything would be okay.

Once in her truck she threw her backpack on the passenger seat and then reached forward to start her car. The movement of curtains above her made her stop and look up to see Allison looking back at her. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Allison turned away, the curtains swung back and settled into place a moment later. Melanie turned the key in the ignition and, a moment later, pulled out of the Argents driveway. Throughout the drive home she couldn't help but think that she was wrong; Allison didn't live a charmed life after all.

**_# # #_**

"I _told_ you not to go over there!" Erica exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. Melanie twisted her mouth to the side but didn't bother to interrupt Erica's tirade. Instead she focused on pouring fresh popcorn into a bowl as her friend continued, slipping into Spanish every now and then as she paced in the Crowe kitchen. Melanie picked up a particularly butter-covered piece and popped into her mouth, chewing happily as her eyes shifted from side to side, watching her friend. "—steer clear of them and _how_ can you eat popcorn at a time like this?"

"Because my dad isn't home to tell me not to and I'm not in the mood to cook anything," Melanie replied with a simple shrug of her shoulders. This didn't sit well with Erica whose eyes narrowed as her posture relaxed to the point that one of her hips popped out; her folded arms soon followed which was a clear sign that Erica wasn't happy with her response. "Eri, look, everything's fine now. Alright?"

"No, Mel, it's _not_ alright. Kate _threatened_ you and your mother and you're just going around like nothing is wrong," Erica replied, "like nothing happened. You could have gotten hurt."

"Well, I didn't," Melanie said. She picked up the bowl, rounded the island in the middle of the kitchen, and then headed towards the living room where their school books and pillows and blankets were strewn on the floor. She dropped down and picked up the remote, pressing the power button. She made a face at the cartoon that filled the screen and began flipping the channels.

"You _could_ have," Erica repeated, following her. "And what about Allison?"

"What about her?"

"She could have lured you there—"

"She didn't."

"—it was probably a trap—"

"It wasn't."

"—she's probably working with her aunt."

"She's not."

"You don't know that!" Erica nearly exploded, dropping on her knees next to Melanie. "You don't know any of that. How can you be so sure she's innocent in all of this?"

Melanie took her time to lower the volume on some cheesy rom-com that was playing on the tv and looked over at Erica. "Because you didn't see her, Eri," she stated. "You didn't see Allison. You didn't see the look in her eyes. She was desperate to have someone to talk to today, someone who could believe her about what she saw. And she chose me. She trusted me. She was sure that she'd be home alone and I knew I was taking a risk with Kate or someone else coming back. I don't think Kate expected to find me there and I don't think Allison planned it. I also don't think Allison knows what she's getting into and I don't think she did it willingly. Not so much, anyway" She licked her lower lip. "Kate isn't exactly sane and I doubt she's above manipulation and I doubt she's above using Allison to get what she wants."

"She wants to use you," Erica pointed out.

Melanie shook her head. "She wants the other beta and she wants to kill the Alpha. I just got in her way."

"But your dad said that people or other creatures will use or kill sirens."

"Kate doesn't know how much of my abilities I have. I can't control people. I don't know how to do anything except mimic someone but that was out of luck and a onetime thing. I've tried but…I can't do it now. She won't kill me because of the fact that I most likely will be able to hone it all one day but then she can't use me because I can't do too much. She doesn't know I know who the other beta is. I'm useless to her. For now. So…I'm safe, for now." Melanie nodded, as if she was trying to convince herself. She hoped she appeared calm to Erica otherwise because she knew her own words were tinged with hope more than certainty. Erica reached over and grasped Melanie's hand, lacing their fingers together. Melanie gave Erica's hand a squeeze and released a breath. "I just want to play in the game tomorrow and attend the formal I've busted my ass preparing to make it the best night for everyone."

Erica's cheeks briefly puffed up as she held her breath. Melanie didn't say anything, she only lifted her eyebrows to silently prompt her to say whatever it was that she wanted to say. A few seconds of the silence got her to crack like an egg. "It's just…you're a little too relaxed at the idea that you could be dead right now."

Melanie shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I'm not so…I'm happy about that. No need to dwell on it." She picked up the remote again only for Erica to snatch it out of her hand. She turned, a frustrated question sitting on her tongue, ready to leap off, but it died at the scrunched up expression on Erica's face.

"You keep acting like everything's fine and dandy but it's not!" Erica ranted. "You don't get it; it'd…_suck_ if you were dead right now, okay? Something could have happened to you at Allison's and…and I'd be stuck here without you. And you don't even seem to care! You just keep…shielding me from everything. I don't need to be protected. Not from you, not from my mom! I can take it! I'm stronger than you both think I am, than you both will let me be. But I can't accept that you could wind up dead one day and you're fine with it. 'Cause _I_ won't be."

"Hey…" Melanie cooed, rubbing the back of Erica's hand, "there will _never_ be a chance that you have to live in a world that I'm not a part of. Okay?" She felt Erica squeeze her hand and the pressure made her heart leap into overdrive, ramming against her ribs. She swallowed thickly as she felt a flush crawling up her neck but she held Erica's gaze.

"You can't promise me that," Erica whispered.

Melanie shrugged again and smiled. "Think I just did." She playfully tapped the tip of Erica's nose and continued, "I'm still here. Be happy about that. I am, 'cause I can spend more time with you."

That seemed to placate Erica; Melanie could see her entire body relaxing until she slumped against the couch that they were sitting in front of. Erica slid her hand out of Melanie's grasp—which Melanie appreciated because hers were flooded with sweat in no time—and loosely wrapped her arms around her knees. "One of these days you're not going to be able to talk yourself out of trouble," she mumbled as she fought to keep a smile off her face.

"As long as you keep eating up my words, I will," Melanie teased, poking her in the side. Erica doubled over to her side but burst out laughing. "Things will be okay."

"How can you always stay so positive?" Erica asked.

"Hey, someone has to," Melanie pointed out. "Speaking of, the dance. You're going, right?" Erica opened her mouth but before she could say anything Melanie interrupted her, "You _have_ to. I spent too much time getting everything settled for my best friend to not even go."

"No one's going to miss me if I don't go," Erica muttered.

"Um, hello? _I_ will."

"You don't count." At the scandalous gasp Melanie uttered, Erica rolled her eyes. "I mean, no one else will care. Epileptic Erica won't mess anything up."

"I made sure there are no strobe lights, nothing to trigger your seizures. Doesn't your mom want you to go? You two can go dress shopping together."

"I already have a dress. My dad bought me one last time he was in town, as a sort of 'I'm sorry I'm such a dick and left you two alone' apology thing." Erica bit at her thumb nail and spit out the fleck of nail polish that came off.

"Then what's the problem?"

She heaved a sigh. "I know no one's going to ask me—and before you say anything, I know having a date isn't important but…when you're me…it'd just be cool. To have someone want to spend time with me like that, you know? Make my mom think I was less of a loser."

"You're not a loser," Melanie shot back. "You're a joy and the others are too lame to see it. It's their problem, not yours."

"Just like yours is Chemistry," Erica commented, using her chin to motion towards the books on the floor. "We should get started with your tutoring now if you want to get a better grade on the next test. It's going to take a while."

"Hey!" Melanie pouted and Erica laughed while reaching for the book. With Erica's attention strayed, Melanie lifted up the sleeve of her shirt and checked on the bruises and welts on her wrists. They didn't hurt anymore but they were still as angry looking as when Kate had her tied up. She managed to shake them back down before Erica could turn around and see them.

No need to tell her everything and upset her even more. She was alive, that's all that mattered.

**_# # #_**

Another sleepless night ended far too early for Melanie. She tossed and turned, jolting awake at every little sound that pierced through the quite house. Every creak of the settling house, every shuffle of her father's restless feet, every whistle of wind through the crack in her window was a hunter waiting to snatch her out of bed or the Alpha stalking her in the night. Her eyelids were weighed down due to the lack of sleep and dark circles beneath her eyes made her skin appear as if it were sagging. Nova even ran away from her when she tried to give him a good morning kiss.

She didn't know how she was going to get through the day. Before she only worried about the Alpha and hunters to a little degree but now…. Kate _threatened_ her mother and she didn't even know what to do with that. Part of her was still angry with her mom and wanted nothing to do with her but the other part wanted to stand by her bedside and shield her. She mulled it over while brushing her teeth and nearly choked on the foamy residue on her tongue when she laughed in disbelief. Here she was actually _thinking_ about whether or not she needed to go and see her mom, to protect her. What kind of daughter was she?

She wrinkled her nose, pushed her hair out of her face, and spat into the sink. _If we win the game I'll go,_ she mentally reasoned while rinsing away excess toothpaste from her brush. _Dad can protect her better than I can right now. I'll just leave him a message. I'll go right after the game if we win._ She nodded at her reflection, her lips briefly forming a straight line and she tore herself away before she could somehow use her own siren voodoo on herself to change her mind.

Once back in her room she went straight for her lacrosse jersey that lay on the end of her bed. Her fingers brushed over the maroon microfiber and a rush of pride shot through her. She traced a finger over the large number sixteen on the back and felt her cheeks begin to ache from the wide smile on her face. Whenever she wore the jersey to a game she felt invincible, maybe if she wore it around school it'd stretch there. And maybe people would finally stop talking about her and the team. She earned her spot, why couldn't people just accept that? What was so wrong about playing on the team?

She blew out a breath, releasing the "bad air" as her mom would say, and changed out of her pajamas and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, her jersey, and a pair of jeans. After wrestling her shoes away from Nova she put him up, grabbed a can of Red Bull and a Tupperware box from the fridge, and ran out the door.

"Did you have coffee?" Erica accused nearly as soon as she got into the passenger seat of Melanie's truck. Melanie paused her thumbs that had been tapping against the wheel and glanced at her. "You know you're not allowed."

"Funny, I thought I would be in college when I was accused of having a problem with caffeine," Melanie commented, "It's a rightful setting, I think."

"Mel."

"It's just Red Bull," she replied, backing out of the driveway, pausing to wave to Mrs. Reyes before they left. An unasked question sat in Erica's eyes as they drove down the street. "Couldn't sleep," she explained.

"Hunter stuff?"

Melanie's mouth twisted to the side for a brief moment before she shook her head. "No. Thinking about the game," she lied. "Just…want it all to go well."

"It _will,_" Erica insisted. "We have a good team. Better now that you're on it. We have a good chance of advancing. There's nothing to worry about."

If only there really wasn't anything to worry about. It felt as if her life had turned into one big ball of worry. Worry about Scott, about Derek, about the Alpha, about her mom, now about Allison and the hunters and the big game. And people often wondered why teenagers were moody!

As soon as they got to school Melanie ducked her head and darted inside. She peered around every wall she came across, like an incompetent spy in the comedies she liked to devour when she was sick. Erica followed behind her, her eyes pointed to the ceiling as if she had rolled her eyes so hard her eyes got stuck.

"Okay, the coast is clear," Melanie spoke aloud and then spun the dial to her combination lock. "Just gotta get my books, hide out in the bathroom, and get to homeroom last so I don't have to talk to her."

"I didn't see her car in the parking lot. Maybe Allison's not here," Erica commented.

"_Or!_ That's what she _wants_ us to think! Or her aunt!" Melanie theorized, throwing some of her books into her locker to replace them with others for the first part of the day.

"I thought you trusted Allison," Erica reminded her.

Melanie silently mimicked Erica's statement to the back of her locker and heaved a sigh. Allison…was a gray area. They were on better standings than they were before, true, but…still. She had that psycho aunt of hers and she knew about werewolves. If it took this long for her to figure it out, her aunt couldn't have been the one to pull the trigger about it. Allison was a smart girl, it couldn't take long for her to put two and two together. But even so, she didn't _do_ anything. _She_ wasn't the one to lock up the werewolf, whichever one they had. _She_ wasn't the one who was torturing them. Right? So there had to still be something in there that she could trust. That she wanted to trust. That she _was_ trusting.

And there it was, standing in front of her.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, his eyebrows heavy to reflect his concern. "You smell…funny."

"Thanks," Melanie said with a roll of her eyes. "That's what every girl wants to hear."

"You know what I mean."

"I do. And I'm fine." She closed her locker door. "It's just…" the words died on her tongue as she looked up at him, studying the peculiar expression on his face. Almost as if he had gotten slapped across the face. "Scott?" she pressed.

He blinked and turned his big, sad eyes to her. "Sorry. You…you kinda smell like Allison."

"You know what she smells like?" Erica cut in. Melanie could hear the incredulous tone in her voice. It was an odd statement but, then again, it was Scott McCall.

Melanie's lips twitched. If there was one thing in the world that punched her in the gut it was seeing Scott so…so heartbroken. So hopeless. And she was the cause of that. Well, partially. She knew things about Allison. Things that he should know, _needed_ to know but…she couldn't hurt him. Not like that. It wasn't her place and…she didn't want to lose him. Heaving a sigh she put on a small smile and said, "I'm sure things will work out fine. You'll see. You'll…you'll be back together before you know it."

"Yeah, I hope. I…I _really_ love her, y'know?"

Melanie nodded. "I have a feeling."

He nodded and then blinked. "I'm sorry, I interrupted you. What were you going to say?"

"Ah, nothing." She scratched at her hemline, shielding her face with her hand. "It's nothing. I'm good, just a bit nervous for the game today."

"Oh." Scott stood up straight and offered up a smile. "You're great. You'll do well, don't worry. I'll be rooting for you."

"Thanks." She tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat.

"Look, I have to go find Stiles. Can we catch up at lunch?"

"Uhh…" Melanie dragged out, turning to Erica.

"It's fine," Erica said quickly. She readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I'll just sit with Isaac." She added with a teasing smile, "We need some time to talk about you."

Melanie's mouth pulled at the corner and she rolled her eyes, punching Erica on the arm. "I'll see you then," she relayed to Scott.

"Great. See you later."

She gave a little wave and let out a groan once Scott was out of earshot. Erica gave her a knowing look that she ignored. "Still need to hide out in the bathroom?" Erica asked.

Melanie nodded. Her stomach was now giving her a better reason to hide. Erica looped her arm through Melanie's and leaned against her side as the two walked down the hall. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, as if she were being watched. Her breath stuck in her throat and she turned her head over her shoulder to check but no one was there besides the other students milling about. Even so, she walked a little faster.

She kept her head down throughout the day, attending classes as late as possible to be sure that there wasn't time for Allison to come talk to her. Instead she had to dodge intense gazes and stares from across the room and coming up with every excuse in the book to get out of class a few minutes early. By the time lunch came around she wouldn't have been surprised if the teachers all thought that she had some strange illness combination that needed her to be on the toilet almost as often as she "needed to see the nurse". Thankfully she knew Scott and Stiles would be the perfect shield before she could escape for the game, Allison didn't sit with them.

"Ready for the game?" she asked while plopping down in the chair. Her tray landed on the table with a little clatter.

"Bardell doesn't stand a chance," Stiles replied, stuffing some curly fries into his mouth.

"Have you seen their record? There's a reason they're the ones to beat. They're undefeated!"

"Yeah, but they don't have a werewolf on their team."

"You said it was cheating if I used my powers," Scott pointed out, lowering his voice.

"Yeah, well, it's only cheating if we get caught!" Stiles hissed back. "Come on, we could get another title. Do you know how proud my dad would be? If I was part of that team?"

Melanie tapped the back of her spoon against her bowl of pudding. "Is he coming?"

Stiles took a sip of water and nodded while replacing the cap. "Well, he's going to try. With everything going on, they've been on high alert."

"Your mom?" she asked, directing the question to Scott.

"If she can get off work early," he commented. "But it's fine if she's not there. She needs to work. She always comes to the games. I'm not worried about that." He looked over his shoulder, surveying the cafeteria and leaned forward. "You guys, we're running out of time. We have to find Derek."

"He could be long gone by now," Stiles pointed out. "Or dead. Which would solve a lot of our problems."

"Stiles, c'mon man."

"What? He could have done more to help and this is what happens to him. Good riddance."

Melanie pressed her lips together and forced herself to take a bite of her pudding. It was much too sweet, she almost gagged. Her fingers drummed against the table as she forced herself to swallow. Scott's and Stiles's argument sounded like buzzing in her ears beneath the hard thumping of her heart.

"…and if they have him they might find me next!"

"They haven't so far. They probably don't even have an idea where to look."

"Ugh, they might!" Melanie cried out, slapping her palms on the table. Her tray jumped as did Scott's and Stiles's and the two turned to look at her. "Look, I went to the Hale House to try and get some answers—_I know I shouldn't have!_" she added at the expression on Stiles's face. "But I just wanted to check and they found me."

"Who found you?"

"The hunters. They found me and attacked me and had me bound." She could almost still feel the ropes around her wrist, the pain in her back from being jerked around and pressed into the ground for who knows how long. "They thought I was a beta werewolf. They kept…poking me with this cattle prod thing. And…and said they had some sort of code." She sighed. "I didn't tell them anything but they're getting close."

"That's what's wrong with your wrists." Scott reached out and grasped her arm, lifting the sleeve to her shirt before she could protest or fight back. She grimaced at the markings still embedded in her skin. "How did you escape?"

"My dad said we can—sirens can—imitate people's voices so I tried that."

"Wait, but how?" Stiles asked, squinting.

Melanie shrugged. "I just…thought of Kate's voice. She's the ringleader. I thought of her speech patterns and then… I did it."

"So you tapped into your powers? Without _my_ help?" Stiles asked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Dude, we have a _system!_ A patent pending system!"

"By throwing lacrosse balls and getting people beaten up?" Melanie shook her head. "That's not a system!"

"It worked for him!" He jerked his thumb in Scott's direction.

"Doesn't mean it'll work for everyone!" Damn, she loved Stiles but sometimes she wanted to punch him in the face. Or the mouth and knock out some teeth and save them the trouble of understanding him.

"Mel! Why didn't you say anything before?" Scott asked, his eyes wide. "If they found you they might go for me _next_."

"I…wasn't thinking!" she cried out. "I do that a lot. Or…don't…do that apparently. I didn't think it was a big deal, I was just looking around."

"We told you not to go!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" She huffed a breath and rubbed at her now throbbing temple. God, how was she going to fix this? She couldn't tell him about what happened at Allison's house now. He probably wouldn't listen to her, let alone believe her. She still wasn't sure if _she_ believed that Allison was involved in it all. Surely she couldn't be so foolish. Kate had to be lying.

"Okay, this…this is fixable," Stiles muttered, rubbing a hand across his mouth. "They don't know it's you, right? So you're still safe."

"Yeah? They already know about the scratch on the back of Jackson's neck," Scott pointed out. He blew out a breath and ran his hands through his hair. "It's only a matter of time until they figure it out."

"I'm sorry!" Melanie uttered again, her stomach twisting painfully. "Look we'll…we'll think of something. We can talk to Deaton. Or my dad."

"Is he coming to the game?"

"Ah…" Melanie slumped in her chair. She wondered the same thing. As much as she wanted him to be there she knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. Her mother came first and foremost in his eyes. She wasn't just his wife; she was the love of his life, his best friend. She wouldn't blame him for not showing up but… "I'm…I'm not sure," she admitted. "But after."

"We can't wait that long!"

"What are they going to do? Attack you on the field?" Stiles shot back. "It buys us some time to come up with something."

"Not enough," Scott muttered.

Melanie opened her mouth again—she had to say something, _do_ something to make things better—but she was stopped by the clamoring sound of the bell ringing. It signaled the end of lunch period and the dismissal time for the lacrosse team to get a meeting in before their game. All at once the other students stood, collecting their trays and trash while finishing up conversations amongst the scraping of chairs.

Scott and Stiles jumped up, grabbing their backpacks and their trays to follow everyone out. Melanie took her time, thinking back to Kate's proposition. She had some time to get back to Kate about her answer but would it be enough? She had no other way to contact her so long as no one was home to answer the phone or the door. They could come up with a plan in that amount of time, couldn't they?

Melanie was the last one in the boys' locker room where they were gathered around a chalkboard that Coach had brought in. He demonstrated with Xs and Os how he wanted them to play the game but they didn't mean anything to her. They were mere squiggles on the board. She hardly listened to what Coach was saying as he rambled on, something about grabbing the other team by the balls and playing basketball with them. (She wondered if he thought any of his analogies ever made sense to anyone but him).

She fidgeted next to Isaac on the bench, tugging on the ends of her hair and bouncing her leg up and down drumming her fingers on her knee. There had to be something she could do, there just _had_ to be. She may have brought herself _into_ the mess but there had to be some way she could get them all out. There had to be some way to get Scott to not be mad at her. But what…?

"Okay, the following people are seeing field time. Everyone else will be riding the bench," Coach's voice filtered into her thoughts. She felt a hard nudge in her side and looked over to Isaac. He tilted his head towards Coach and she sat up straighter, giving him some of her attention. "Which is the most action I bet you're going to get all year." He let out a wheezing laugh at his joke, slapping his knee as they all stared at him blankly. He cleared his throat and looked at the paper in his hands, rattling off names. "…Whittemore…McCall…Mahelani…Rodriguez…Taylor…and…Crowe."

Melanie's head shot up. _What?_ She barely felt Isaac patting her on the shoulder. This couldn't be right. First line? But…that spot wasn't hers! She glanced over at Stiles to see him scratching behind his ear. He glanced up, caught her eye, and nodded at her, a small smile forming on his lips. She shook her head. This wasn't right.

"Coach," she said, standing up. "I can't play first line."

Coach laughed again. "What, are you kidding?"

"No, but—"

"You've been harassing me for a spot on this team and now that you have it you don't want it?" He asked, his voice incredulous. "Shut up and be happy, Crowe. You're first line."

"But…I wasn't even supposed to play last time. That wasn't my spot. Stiles—"

"Biles," Stiles corrected her.

"—_Biles_ had that spot."

"And last I checked Bilinski wasn't there for the last game," Coach pointed out, "and I put you in. Stop whining!" He shook his head and addressed the rest of the time. "Ten minutes and your asses are on the bus. I'm not against leaving anyone behind. Especially you, Greenberg."

Melanie sighed as the boys all shuffled to their locker. Isaac scoffed as he stood. "Don't be so happy," he muttered sarcastically.

"I didn't mean to be ungrateful," she said. "I just didn't want to take Stiles's place if I didn't earn it."

"By the way you played last game I think Coach thought you deserved it," Isaac pointed out. He gave her a knowing look and walked off to his locker. She took it as her cue to get her stuff from her own locker and was pleasantly surprised to see Erica waiting for her.

"You're skipping?" Melanie questioned while popping open the door and grabbing her lacrosse stick. "Your mom's going to go through the roof."

"Hall pass," Erica replied, holding up the little card. "I wanted to see you off. Wish you luck."

"Awww! Eri!" Melanie cooed, reaching out to give her friend the tightest hug she could give. That's just what she needed to calm her down, a big squeeze and words of encouragement. "Thanks," she mumbled once they pulled apart. "For everything. For…for being so cool with everything. I really need you in my corner."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Erica asked. She reached out and gently tugged on the end of Melanie's hair. "Now sit down so I can braid some of this out of the way. You can dominate when you can't see the field."

Grinning, Melanie did as she was told and sat on the bench as still as possible. She could feel Erica pulled on a few strands of her hair for the braid. Her long fingernails brushed against her scalp and a shiver ran down her spine. It reminded her of how her mom used to braid her hair. Her mouth twisted to the side. _If we win the game I'll go see her. Promise_ , she reminded herself. But still, it wasn't the same without her actually being there.

"All done!" Erica announced, grasping Melanie's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Melanie jumped up and ran over to the sinks to look in the mirror, admiring her braid.

"Thanks! I love it!"

Erica gave a modest shrug and waved her away. "Get going! I think I hear Coach yelling."

Melanie rushed back to her locker and grabbed the Tupperware that sat inside." efore I go, I have a question to ask you."

"Okay, but hurry up or you'll miss your bus."

With a grin, Melanie removed the lid of the Tupperware and pulled out a plate of cookies. One large cookie had a heart shape cut out of it and had the words "winter formal?" written on it. Three other cookies sat on the plate beneath it: a rhombus with "no!" written on it, a circle with "maybe" written on it, and a heart with "of course!" written on it. "So?" she asked Erica's stunned expression. "Wanna go with me? I mean I already know we're going together, that's a given, but now we get cookies out of it."

Erica blinked a few times and stuttered before gasping, "Wait. _Me?_"

"Yeah, you silly. You said you always wanted to be asked to a dance in a big way and a sky writer was out." She shrugged. "They're crazy expensive and this is better because it's edible."

"Mel," Erica said softly, placing a hand to her chest.

"Well if you don't want to go…" Melanie said with a fake pout.

"Mel! _Yes!_ Of course I'll go with you, dummy," Erica replied, slapping her on the arm. Her cheeks were flushed red and a wide smile sat on her face. Gosh, how Melanie loved it when Erica gave an unrestrained smile. "Now _go!_ Kick ass for me!"

Confidence surging through her, Melanie grabbed her stick and bag and kicked her locker door shut. She gave a short wave and rushed out of the school to join the others on the bus. She shoved her bag and stick in the overhead compartment and dropped down in the empty seat next to Isaac who turned to her, holding out one of his earbuds. She stuck it in her right ear and settled into her seat. Before she could do anything else, before she could even think about fixing her mistake, they had a game to win.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an**_ - Thanks so much everyone for being patient with me between updates. I broke 100 reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things are really getting tense, huh? I know I promised a Danny/Mel scene and the lacrosse game in this chapter but the longer it went on I knew I had to split it into two parts. The next chapter will be part 2! Please read and review!

~C.M.


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